The Best Policy
by Elfalas
Summary: What if Sarah remembered, but Jareth forgot? How does one convince a modern-day businessman that he's really the Goblin King? Modern day. Slow(ish) burn. M rating for language, adult situations and themes, and sensuality in later chapters – not planning on any overt lemons, though.
1. Chapter 1 - The Man from Highclere

This is my first attempt at posting a multi-chapter story. I hope you all enjoy it.

Standard Fanfiction Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations created and dramatized by Terry Jones, Brian Froud, Jim Henson, David Bowie, et al. I do not own Labyrinth, nor am I making any money from it.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: The Man from Highclere**

Sarah sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. She had spent the last few hours poring over the latest draft of the document in front of her, and she needed a break. And caffeine, lots of caffeine. It was going to be a late night.

She stretched as she gazed out her office window, watching the golden light of late afternoon gild the modernist façade of Lloyd's across Leadenhall Street. Not for the first time, she marveled at the turn her life had taken and how she had ended up in an office in London working for one of the largest insurance brokerages in the world.

After college, Sarah had been at a loose end. She had never been one of those people who always knew what they wanted to be when they grew up. Her B.A. in English had naturally flowed from her life-long love of fantasy literature, but she had no real aspirations to be an author. She had gone home the summer after graduation to work as a paralegal in her father's corporate law firm while she explored the wider job market.

At an alumni event that fall, she had been introduced to Randy Cooper, who worked in the New York office of a large insurance brokerage, but was in town visiting family. Randy had suggested that she send in her resume for an open position for a junior broker, so, on a whim, Sarah had done just that. She hadn't been sure that insurance was really her thing, but she was eager to spread her wings beyond the small town where she had grown up, and the prospect of living in New York City was enticing. With Randy's recommendation, Sarah had easily landed the job and soon found herself living in a small studio apartment on the Upper East Side and commuting downtown to the Financial District. After several years, word came though the corporate grapevine of an opening in the London office, and Sarah had jumped at the chance to live abroad.

Now, at twenty-eight, she was a full-fledged broker working under the great Bryan Nasmith and enjoying the life of an American ex-pat. Tomorrow, she would be assisting her boss in a series of meetings leading up to a big policy renewal. The document she had spent her day reviewing was the policy itself, which she was checking and rechecking for errors, something she had turned out to be surprisingly good at. Who knew that attention to detail was her thing?

Sarah turned from her window – one of the perks of her job was the stunning view from her very own office – and went in search of much-needed sustenance. The tea lady had made the last pass with her cart hours ago, and Sarah was starving. Making her way down the hallway towards the kitchen, she passed Bryan's open office door.

Glancing up, he saw her and called out, "Sarah?"

Giving an internal sigh, Sarah stepped into her boss's office.

"Yes, Mr. Nasmith?"

"How's the policy looking?" Bryan was not one to beat around the bush.

"Fine," Sarah replied. "I'm almost finished with my review. Everything looks good so far, but I want to give it one more pass before the meetings tomorrow."

Bryan smiled. "That's my girl," he chuckled, "always so thorough."

Sarah smiled back. "That's what they pay me for," she said brightly.

"And worth every penny," Bryan replied. "How are we set for the presentation?"

"Good," Sarah replied. "I've sent the PowerPoint to Marjorie so she can put together the handout packets, and Steven said he'll have the conference room ready for 9 o'clock."

"Perfect, as usual. I'm heading out soon; how late are you staying?"

"Until I'm finished," was Sarah's standard reply.

Bryan smiled again. "Don't stay too late," he cautioned. "I need you fresh for tomorrow."

"Have I ever let you down?" Sarah asked.

"Never," he replied, standing up. "Oh, by the way," he paused in the act of picking up his briefcase, "Highclere Syndicate is sending a new underwriter tomorrow. I'm hoping we can get him on this policy. Make sure he gets invited to the dinner tomorrow night."

"No worries," Sarah replied. "I'll let Marjorie know."

Bryan nodded and coughed. "Good. Well, see you in the morning."

"Good night, Mr. Nasmith."

"Good night, Sarah."

After her boss's departure, Sarah fixed herself a cup of tea and grabbed a handful of biscuits from the communal stash before returning to her desk. She would pick up something more substantial on her way home, but, first, she had work to do.

~o*0*o~

Sarah stepped out of the shower the next morning to discover a frantic voicemail from Marjorie on her phone.

"Sarah," the secretary's shrill voice quavered, "I'm so sorry to call you so early, but I've just heard from Mr. Nasmith. He can't make it to the meetings today. He says you'll have to cover for him. I'll have the handouts ready when you get here. Call me as soon as you can."

Sarah was about to do just that when her phone rang in her hands. It was Bryan.

"Sarah?" He sounded awful.

"Yes, Mr. Nasmith," she answered.

"I've come down with the flu or some damn thing. You'll have to take the lead in the meetings today and do the presentation. Think you can handle it?"

Sarah's stomach clenched. She knew the material backwards, and had assisted in these kinds of meetings many times, but she had never actually given a presentation on her own before. This would be trial by fire.

Putting on a brave voice, she said, "Of course, Mr. Nasmith. Whatever you need. I'll be fine."

"That's my girl," Bryan said, coughing. "Be sure to take good care of the man from Highclere."

"I will," Sarah assured him. "You just rest and feel better."

~o*0*o~

Forty-five minutes later, Sarah rushed into her office, a flustered Marjorie trailing in her wake.

"Have you put the handouts in the conference room?" she asked.

"Yes," the secretary replied.

"And did Steven get everything set up for the presentation? The laptop and projector are working?"

"Yes."

"Did he include an external mouse? I hate touchpads."

"Yes, I made sure of that."

"Good. Oh, Mr. Nasmith said that Highclere is sending a new underwriter today. Make sure he gets in invitation to tonight's dinner."

"Yes, Miss Williams."

Sarah paused. Marjorie must really be rattled by Bryan's absence. She had never addressed Sarah as "Miss Williams" before. She turned to the older woman and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, Marjorie," she said, "I appreciate all of your hard work."

"You're welcome, Miss Williams," Marjorie replied.

Sarah gathered what she needed from her desk and made her way to the conference room. She would be meeting with four separate sets of underwriters today, which meant that she had to give the same presentation four times. She often wondered why they didn't just give one big presentation to all of the underwriters at once, but, when she had suggested this to Bryan when she had first come to the London office, she had been met with a cold stare and told that that was the way it was done. Well, if that was the way it was done, then that was the way she must to it.

Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, Sarah entered the conference room for her first presentation.

~o*0*o~

By mid-afternoon, Sarah was preparing to meet with the final group of underwriters. She felt that the first three meetings had gone remarkably well. The underwriters had, predictably, asked tough, technical questions, but Sarah found that she had been able to answer all of them with ease. There was just one more presentation to go, then she would be hosting a group dinner at a local restaurant later in the evening before she could finally go home and sleep.

The underwriters entered the room in a group. She knew all of them by name, except for the slim, blonde man who entered last. This must be the new man from Highclere that Bryan had told her about. Shaking hands and exchanging greetings as she went, Sarah made her way through the group of suited businessmen until she came to the new underwriter. Extending her hand with a welcoming smile, she looked up into his face and froze.

To say that he was handsome hardly did him justice. He had intense, light blue eyes set above high, finely chiseled cheekbones, and his pale blonde hair was cut in the latest style. She would have said he was in his late thirties, which would make him about ten years older than she was. He was impeccably dressed in a close-cut, three-piece, navy blue suit with white pinstripes that accentuated his slim frame. His light blue tie and matching pocket square were exactly the same shade as his eyes.

But it wasn't his attractive appearance that had made Sarah pause – it was his remarkable likeness to someone she had not seen for thirteen years. Aside from his hairstyle and lack of eye make-up, the man in front of her was the spitting image of the Goblin King.

He arched one delicate eyebrow and extended his hand to her, saying in a rich, deep voice, "How do you do? I'm David Jones-King with the Highclere Syndicate."

Of course, Sarah thought inanely, he _would_ have an aristocratic, double-barreled surname to go with those looks. It was only when her hand met his that she realized he was wearing thin leather gloves – just like someone else she had met once, a long time ago. Even his voice was the same. But he couldn't be the Goblin King. Even assuming that _he_ had been real, and not a figment of her overactive, hormonally-driven teenaged imagination, why would the Goblin King be masquerading as a London insurance underwriter thirteen years after she had defeated him? It made no sense at all.

Swallowing her growing sense of unease, Sarah firmly took his hand and said, "Very well, thank you, Mr. Jones-King. I'm Sarah Williams."

He smiled in a way that she found oddly predatory.

"A pleasure, Miss Williams, I'm sure," he replied smoothly, "but I was expecting to meet with Mr. Nasmith this afternoon. Will he be joining us?"

She had been afraid that some of the underwriters would question her ability, but whether Mr. Jones-King was doing so due to her age or her sex, she was unsure.

"Mr. Nasmith sends his apologies," Sarah replied formally, meeting his gaze and refusing to be intimidated. "He was unexpectedly taken ill and cannot be with us. I will be giving the presentation today."

"A pity," he said, releasing her hand.

"I assure you," Sarah replied before he could turn away, "that you will find me quite knowledgeable. I've been working closely with Mr. Nasmith on this project and can answer any questions you may have after the presentation."

He regarded her for a moment, then nodded.

"Then, by all means, Miss Williams," he said, "let us proceed."

~o*0*o~

Two hours later, the presentation over, Sarah was fielding questions from the underwriters. Predictably, the most incisive ones came from Mr. Jones-King. He shot out question after question, seeking finer and finer points of detail. Sarah deftly answered each query with patience and skill, not having to refer back to her notes or the policy once to recall the pertinent information.

Finally satisfied, he sat back and regarded Sarah with a raised eyebrow, seemingly impressed despite himself.

"Thank you for an excellent and informative presentation, Miss Williams. You can count on Highclere's full participation."

With murmured assents from the other men, everyone stood and began to exit the room. Sarah positioned herself by the door, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries as they left. Mr. Jones-King was once again the last in line. Taking his gloved hand firmly and meeting his eyes, Sarah said, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jones-King. Will you be joining us for dinner this evening?"

He studied her face for a moment, not dropping her hand. "Will you be hosting this evening's repast?"

Sarah found his intense gaze slightly unnerving, especially as he reminded her so much of…but, no, best not to dwell on it. It simply wasn't possible for the man in front of her to be _him_.

"Yes," she replied, forcing a smile, "with Mr. Nasmith sick, entertaining all of you is up to me."

"Then I look forward to being entertained," he replied with a smirk. "Until this evening, then."

And with a small nod that could have passed for a bow, he was gone.

* * *

A/N

First, to give credit where credit is due, this plot bunny is not my own. My husband, who neither reads nor writes Labyrinth fanfic, but has heard a lot about it from me, came up with the idea and let me run with it. He loved the idea of Jareth being stuck in the real world and working in a very dull, boring office job.

Second, a few notes on language. I am an American, but also quite the Anglophile, and I did study abroad in the UK in college, so I am not wholly unfamiliar with British English. I have chosen to write Sarah as an American, in keeping with the movie. Most, if not all, of this story will be from Sarah's POV, although the beginning is set in London, so I will most likely use American expressions and terminology, rather than British ones. For example, I say "sidewalk," instead of "pavement." However, where it seems like Sarah would use a British term, rather than an American one, I plan on using the British term. Hence, Sarah lived in an apartment in New York, but lives in a flat in London. I hope that's not too confusing for anyone.

Third, with regard to the timeline, I have chosen to set this in modern day, rather than 1999 (which would be 13 years after the movie). It just seemed easier to write it that way than try to remember whether we had X, Y, or Z in 1999.

Finally, I'm not sure how often I will be updating. I know where I want this to go (at least, up to a point), and I have the second chapter almost complete. I plan to keep a chapter ahead of what I post to give myself a cushion.


	2. Chapter 2 - An Evening's Entertainment

Standard Fanfiction Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations created and dramatized by Terry Jones, Brian Froud, Jim Henson, David Bowie, et al. I do not own Labyrinth, nor am I making any money from it.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: An Evening's Entertainment**

After returning briefly to her flat to change, Sarah made her way to the upscale restaurant where the dinner was to take place. She knew it was unusual to change for dinner in a business setting, but, with Bryan out of commission, she wanted to make the best impression possible. So, she had dressed with care in a sleeveless, dark green sheath dress that hit just above the knee. The wide neckline almost fell off her shoulders before dipping down into a deep V just above her cleavage. She had pulled her long, dark hair into a simple, soft updo, leaving the graceful curve of her neck bare. She completed the look with black, leather pumps and gold and emerald jewelry. Her relatively conservative ensemble was smart enough to attract attention, but not daring enough to attract too much.

Despite recent trends, the particular section of the insurance industry in which she worked was still primarily a man's world, and, over the years, Sarah had learned how to use that to her advantage. Mr. Jones-King was not the first man to underestimate the young American's abilities based solely on her appearance. While she found such dismissive attitudes distinctly irritating, she secretly reveled in the reactions she inspired in the men around her every time she proved that she was far more than just a pretty face and a good figure.

Hurrying down the sidewalk, Sarah glanced at her watch. She wanted to be the first one at the restaurant to make sure that Marjorie had made the proper arrangements. Not that Marjorie was untrustworthy – far from it, in fact. She was the best secretary Sarah had ever worked with, but Sarah felt the pressure of hosting her first insurance dinner in Bryan's absence and wanted everything to go smoothly.

Reaching for the handle of the restaurant's front door, she was mildly startled when a long, gray-clad arm ending in a black, leather-gloved hand reached past her and pulled the door open for her. She turned and looked into the amused face of David Jones-King.

"After you, Miss Williams," he purred.

"Thank you," Sarah replied, recovering quickly. She led the way into the restaurant, with him following on her heels.

Sarah checked her coat and turned back to face him. They paused, each appraising the other's appearance. It seemed she wasn't the only one who had decided to change for dinner. Mr. Jones-King had traded his navy pinstripe suit for an equally stylish one of deep, charcoal gray, complete with a red, patterned tie and matching pocket square. A black fedora adorned his head, the brim dipping low over one blue eye. The word "debonair" flashed through Sarah's mind, and she realized that it was the perfect word to describe him.

He cocked an appreciative eyebrow as he took in her dress and hair. "This look suits you much more than your business attire, Miss Williams," he said. "Tell me, is this part of the evening's entertainment?"

Sarah fought the flush that was threatening to creep up her neck at his words. Why did so many men seem to feel that it was their right to leer?

"Thank you, Mr. Jones-King," she said stiffly, "but my choice of clothing is not intended to entertain. I merely wished to make a favorable impression."

Deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine, she mimicked his facial expression and cocked an eyebrow, allowing her gaze to slowly drift over him from head to toe. With her in three-inch heels, they were almost exactly the same height, and Sarah could now look him in the eye without needing to tilt her head. Meeting his gaze, she added, "As, it seems, did you."

"Well, you have certainly accomplished your goal, as I hope I have mine," he smirked. "I meant no offense, Miss Williams," he continued in a more contrite tone. "And, please, call me David."

Sarah regarded him skeptically for a moment before deciding that his apology was sincere.

"Thank you, David," she replied with a slight nod. "And you may call me Sarah."

"Very well, then, _Sa-rah_ ," he drawled, caressing her name with his deep voice. "Shall we repair to the bar until the rest of your guests arrive?"

Sarah stopped in her tracks. The way David said her name – it was exactly how _he_ had said it. Words spoken so long ago came unbidden to her mind. _Turn back, Sa-rah. Turn back before it's too late._

David turned from checking his hat and noted her hesitation.

"Is something the matter?" he asked with a slight frown. "I hope I haven't offended you further."

Sarah shook herself and forced a smile to her lips. "No, you haven't offended me," she replied. "It's just that you…remind me of someone I…knew…a long time ago."

He cocked an eyebrow again. "I hope the comparison is a favorable one," he said.

"That remains to be seen," Sarah replied guardedly.

"Oh, now I _am_ intrigued," David smirked. "You must tell me all about this mysterious 'someone' you knew so long ago and of whom I remind you so much."

Before Sarah could reply, two more of the underwriters entered the restaurant and hailed them. Relieved not to have to discuss the Goblin King with David, she smiled and greeted the new arrivals, slipping effortlessly into her role as hostess.

~o*0*o~

The dinner proceeded smoothly, much to Sarah's relief. The only awkward moment had been when the party had first entered the dining room. Before Sarah could suggest a seating arrangement, David had wordlessly taken the chair to the right of the one she was standing behind, giving her an inquisitive and mildly challenging look, as if daring her to either ask him to move or select a different place for herself. Sarah had chosen not to comment before taking her original seat and allowing the rest of the men to arrange themselves as they saw fit around the long table.

Predictably enough, the conversation focused around insurance. Everyone had a story to tell about some incident or personality within the industry. Sarah had heard many of the same stories before, but she laughed and commented in the appropriate places in order to keep the atmosphere light and the talk from growing tedious. David didn't say much while they ate, but Sarah found his pale eyes on her whenever she happened to glance in his direction. She wasn't sure whether she found his behavior to be flattering or unsettling, but, seeing as how he was new to this particular group and perhaps uncomfortable around people he did not know well, she was willing to make allowances.

Seeing that everyone had nearly finished their desserts and coffee, she summoned the waiter and requested the bill. When it arrived, she reached for it, only to have her hand brush against David's.

"Let me get this, Sarah," he said, giving her a disarming smile.

Sarah raised her eyebrows.

"Thank you for offering, David," she replied, smiling back, "but, I'm hosting tonight. My company invited you, so I'm paying."

She tried again to pick up the little, black book that held the bill, but felt David's warm hand close over hers, arresting her action. Apparently, he had removed his gloves for dinner.

"I insist," he said, staring into her eyes.

Sarah stared back for several seconds. She heard someone laugh farther down the table. Their disagreement over the bill had not gone unnoticed.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," she said finally, still smiling. "My boss would have my head on a platter if I let an underwriter pay for this dinner."

"I don't take 'no' for an answer, _Sa-rah_ ," David replied. His tone was light, but Sarah sensed something darker lurking behind his eyes.

 _This is a man who's used to getting his own way_ , she thought.

"Neither do I, _Da-vid_ ," she replied, matching his tone.

David cocked an eyebrow at her. His expression could only be described as impish.

"In that case," he drawled, "I propose a little game."

"A game?" she asked.

"Yes," he said with a smirk, "a game. The winner pays for dinner." He leaned towards her. "What do you say, Sarah?" he asked in a low voice. "Are you up for a challenge?"

Sarah leaned towards him, resting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand.

"What did you have in mind, David?" she asked, raising her eyebrows inquiringly.

He regarded her for a moment. "Well," he said at last, "we could do shots."

Sarah laughed. "And here I thought you had something more original in mind," she replied, leaning back in her chair. "I'm disappointed, David," she teased with a slight shake of her head.

David's eyes narrowed. "You want something more _original_?" he asked, almost as if the word were offensive to him.

"More original than doing shots," Sarah countered. "It's positively cliché."

Glancing down the table, she saw that the conversation had ceased, and all eyes were on her and David. The realization made her a bit nervous, but she had not made it this far in her career by backing down when presented with a challenge.

"You must've had _something_ in mind when you suggested a game," she prompted.

A gleam flashed into David's eyes, but was gone almost immediately. Sarah had the unpleasant suspicion that he most certainly did have something in mind, and that it had nothing to do with deciding who would pay the bill. She felt her skin grow warm under his gaze and wondered just how many glasses of wine she had had. _Careful, Williams_ , she thought. _Don't do anything stupid._

As though sensing her discomfort, David leaned back in his chair. He eyed her speculatively for a moment, then said, "Tell me, Sarah, how well-versed are you in the theater?"

Her eyebrows shot up again at the non sequitur. "Well enough, I suppose," she replied. "Why?"

David leaned forward again, his eyes twinkling. "Because I've thought of a game we can play."

Not to be outdone, Sarah leaned forward, as well. "Oh, really? And what game would that be?"

David grinned. "Showtunes."

"Showtunes?"

"Yes. One of us will name the title of a song, and the other will name the musical in which it appears. Is that original enough for you?"

Sarah looked skeptical. "And this is how you want to decide whose company pays for dinner?"

"Yes," David responded with a nod. "Unless, of course," he added with a smug look and a dismissive wave of his hand, "you're not up to the challenge."

The Goblin King's words bubbled up on her mind. _You're no match for me, Sarah._

"Challenge accepted," she responded without hesitation.

"Excellent!" David said, rubbing his hands together. He gestured towards Sarah. "Ladies first."

"Oh no," Sarah replied with a shake of her head. "This game was your idea. You go first."

"Very well, then." He paused in thought. "'I Won't Grow Up.'"

Sarah laughed. "That one's easy. _Peter Pan_."

"I had thought it would be a bit before your time."

"I saw the movie version with Mary Martin loads of time. My Mom was obsessed with it when I was a kid."

"I see. Your turn."

Sarah thought for a moment. "'Poor Wandering One.'"

David cocked an eyebrow. "Gilbert and Sullivan. I _am_ impressed," he said. " _Pirates of Penzance_. 'Some Enchanted Evening.'"

" _South Pacific_. 'The Surrey with the Fringe on Top,'" she countered, thinking that a Brit wouldn't be familiar with a musical about the Old West. She was wrong.

" _Oklahoma!"_ He leaned forward once again. "'Shall We Dance?'"

Sarah blinked. It was a little too close to home.

" _The King and I_."

 _The Goblin King and I_ , she thought before she could stop herself. She pushed the unwelcome thought away with an effort.

"'I Could Have Danced All Night.'"

" _My Fair Lady_ ," David said with a grin. "My favorite. 'Masquerade.'"

That was _way_ too close to home.

" _The Phantom of the Opera_. _My_ favorite. 'I Dreamed a Dream.'"

" _Les Mis_ _é_ _rables_. 'It Only Takes a Moment.'"

Sarah blinked again. " _Hello, Dolly!_ "

Was there a pattern to the songs he was naming? Momentarily at a loss, she blurted out the first song that came into her head, "'Memory.'" Too late, she realized that it was her second Freudian slip in as many minutes – if not her third – as well as an obvious gimme.

David frowned. "Really, pet. That one is far too easy. _Cats_." Then, as if pressing his advantage, he whispered, "'You Are Beautiful.'"

Sarah stared at him, her eyes widening slightly of their own accord. Had he just said…? She looked down at her lap in confusion, taking a deep breath, then glanced back up just in time to catch the smirk David was giving her before he could wipe it off his face completely. Sarah narrowed her eyes. " _Flower Drum Song_ ," she shot out.

David raised his eyebrows. "Well done," he replied. "I thought that one a bit esoteric."

"To most people, perhaps," Sarah replied. "I was raised on Rodgers and Hammerstein." Hoping to trip him up with something more modern, she said, "'No Good Deed.'"

David smiled again. " _Wicked_ ," he purred. "'Pinball Wizard.'"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. That was a trick question, and he knew it. "Do you want the movie, or the stage production?" she asked.

"Is there a difference?" he queried.

"The stage production is called _The Who's Tommy_. The movie was just called _Tommy_ ," Sarah replied.

" _Touch_ _é_ ," David replied.

"'Where Are We Now?'"

"I believe it is your turn," David said.

Sarah knew she had him. "No," she said a trifle smugly, "that's the title of the song: 'Where Are We Now?'"

"Oh, I see." David tried valiantly to recover his poise, but Sarah had obviously stumped him. He paused, considering. Finally, he admitted, "I'm afraid I am not familiar with that one."

Sarah grinned. "It's from David Bowie's musical, _Lazarus_. It had a very limited engagement right before and after his death. In fact, his last public appearance was at the premiere in New York. It's not very well-known, except to diehard fans like me."

"I see," he said again. "Did you have a chance to see it live?"

"I wish," Sarah laughed. "It was impossible to get tickets."

David gave her a measured look, then stood from his seat and swept her a low bow. "My congratulations, Sarah. It appears that you have bested me."

Without warning, her mind flashed back to her defeat of the Goblin King. _You have no power over me._ She shook her head slightly to clear it.

"And at your own game, too," said one of the other underwriters. A round of applause burst out from the men seated around the table, who had been watching the contest with great interest.

Startled, Sarah turned back to the group. She had been so engrossed in her game with David that she had completely forgotten the rest of the underwriters and that she was hosting a business dinner. She flushed slightly at the attention. Hastily paying the bill, she stood and began the requisite round of good-byes.

The group slowly made its way out of the restaurant, several men pausing at the coat check to collect various items. Sarah claimed her coat and followed them onto the sidewalk, while David retrieved his fedora. He used the mirror on the wall to adjust it to a properly rakish angle before donning his gloves and following the others outside. When he had joined them, Sarah held out her hand and said, "Thank you for coming this evening, David. I look forward to working with you in the future."

Taking her hand in his, David smiled somewhat wolfishly before replying, "Not nearly as much as I look forward to working with you, let me assure you."

Then, to Sarah's utter amazement, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly in farewell before turning and sauntering away into the night.

* * *

A/N

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and/or PM-ed me. Your encouragement has really kept me going.

A word regarding their height. I did some research and discovered that David Bowie was 5'10", and Jennifer Connelly is 5'7". If she was wearing 3" heels and he was wearing normal dress shoes, they would be approximately the same height. Jareth appears to be much taller than Sarah in the movie because David Bowie was wearing 2-3" heels, making him at least 6' tall, while Jennifer Connelly was wearing loafers. Plus, there's Jareth's hair…


	3. Chapter 3 - Close Encounters

Standard Fanfiction Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations created and dramatized by Terry Jones, Brian Froud, Jim Henson, David Bowie, et al. I do not own Labyrinth, nor am I making any money from it.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Close Encounters**

The next morning, Sarah was greeted in the office lobby by a still stuffy-headed Bryan. "How did everything go?" he wheezed.

"Very well," Sarah replied. "I'll fill you in on the details once I get settled."

"And Highclere?"

"Is onboard."

"Perfect! Good job, Sarah," Bryan smiled.

Sarah flushed. Bryan was notoriously hard to please, and a compliment from him was always well-earned.

Before she could make her way to her office, Marjorie came up to her and, beaming, held out a small envelope. "This came for you this morning, Miss Williams," she said.

Puzzled, Sarah opened the envelope and removed a square of thick, cream-colored cardstock. Written on it in black ink in a strong hand, and using what was obviously a broad-nibbed fountain pen, was the message:

"Sarah,

Many thanks for a most entertaining and memorable evening. I hope our paths cross again.

Regards,

David"

She felt her cheeks begin to warm as she read his words. Before she could comment, Marjorie gestured through Sarah's office door and continued, "And these came with it."

Sitting on her desk was a clear glass vase holding a dozen red roses.

Looking over her shoulder, Bryan asked, "Who are those from?"

"David Jones-King," Sarah replied faintly.

"The Highclere underwriter?"

Sarah just nodded.

"Looks like you made an impression."

"It certainly does," Sarah replied.

~o*0*o~

The rest of the week passed in a blur of emails, lengthy phone calls, and endless paperwork. By Friday evening, all of the correct documents were signed by all of the right people, coverage was bound, and Sarah felt that she could finally relax and enjoy the weekend with a clear conscience.

As she gathered her purse and coat and passed through the lobby, Marjorie called out, "Have a good weekend, Miss Williams."

"Thank you, Marjorie," Sarah replied, "you, too."

Exiting the building into the bustle and hurry of London at rush hour, Sarah decided to make a detour to her favorite pub and have a much-needed drink before heading back to her flat.

Tucked discretely down a byway just off Leadenhall Street, the King's Arms was an ancient watering hole much-frequented by the insurance professionals who worked nearby. The interior was typical English pub: all dark wood paneling and brass fixtures. Predictably, it was crowded at this time on a Friday night, and Sarah saw many faces she recognized. She squeezed her way through the seething mass of business suits and managed to find an empty stool at the bar. As she settled herself, the aged barman turned to her with a welcoming smile.

"Sarah!" he boomed jovially, causing several people to glance in her direction, "Good to see ya. Whut can I getcha?"

"Hello, Gus," Sarah replied with a grin. "I'll have a peach Bellini, please."

Gus raised his eyebrows. "As bad as all that, is it?" he asked in his rough Scottish burr.

"You have no idea," Sarah sighed, resting her elbows on the bar. "This has been the week from hell. We had a big renewal, and Bryan came down with the flu, so I had to handle the meetings and dinner myself on Tuesday."

"First time runnin' the show?" Gus asked, setting in front of her a tall, glass flute containing cloudy, orange liquid and garnished with a slice of the aforementioned fruit.

"Yeah, it was." She took a sip of her drink and sighed with pleasure, savoring the sweetness of the concoction and allowing the stress of the week to melt away as she swallowed. "I've got to hand it to you, Gus," she said with a grin, "you make the best peach Bellinis in London."

"And here I had you pegged for a martini girl," drawled a deep, masculine voice behind her.

Turning in her seat, Sarah found herself staring at a silken, lavender pocket square set against a navy blue suit front. Allowing her eyes to travel slowly upwards, she found herself gazing into the bemused face of David Jones-King.

"It depends on the situation," she replied coolly.

He raised an eyebrow. "And what situation warrants such a cloying drink?"

"The satisfying end of a long, hard week," Sarah responded, saluting him with her glass before taking another sip.

"I'll drink to that," David replied with a grin. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Sarah waved her free hand at the recently vacated barstool to her left. "Help yourself."

Seating himself with casual grace, David caught Gus's eye.

"What'll it be?" the barman asked.

"Dalwhinnie. Neat."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "And here I had you pegged for a martini man," she quipped with an impish grin. "Shaken, not stirred."

David regarded her with a sidelong glance. "That, my dear, depends entirely upon the situation," he responded.

"And what situation warrants a stiff drink?" Sarah asked.

"As you said, the end of a long, hard week." He raised the glass Gus had set in front of him. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Sarah responded, clinking her flute against his tumbler.

They both sipped their drinks, eyeing each other over the rims of their glasses.

Lounging back in her seat, Sarah asked, "So, do you come here often?"

David tilted his head and gave her a mocking look.

Coloring slightly, Sarah laughed self-deprecatingly, "I didn't mean that to come out as a pick-up line."

"How disappointing," David drawled, sipping his Scotch.

Choosing to ignore the insinuation, Sarah responded, "I know you're new to Highclere. I was just wondering how you found London."

"I didn't realize it was lost."

Sarah laughed out loud at that.

" _Touch_ _é_ ," she responded, raising her glass to him and taking another sip.

David watched her, a small smile playing on his lips. "I am, indeed, new to the syndicate," he responded, "but I'm hardly a stranger to London." He took another sip of Scotch. "I've had a flat in Soho for years."

Sarah stared, openmouthed. "You have a flat in Soho?"

"Yes," he responded, sipping his drink. "Is that so unusual?"

"No," Sarah stammered, "it's just that I know lots of people who _want_ to live in Soho, but not many who actually do."

"Do you include yourself in that?"

"In what?"

"People who want to live in Soho."

"Of course," Sarah replied offhandedly. "Who wouldn't?"

"I'm told many people find it too flashy."

"Not me," Sarah replied, sipping her drink. "I'd love to live so close to the theaters and the nightlife."

"Would you, now?" he asked, giving her an appraising look.

"Yes," Sarah said frankly. "It reminds me of New York. And it would certainly give me something to look forward to on the weekend."

"So, what are your plans for the rest of the evening, if I may ask?"

"After the week I've had, I plan on having a long soak in a hot bath, and then curling up in bed with a good book," Sarah replied with a grin.

David eyed her thoughtfully. "You plan on spending your evening alone, then?"

"Quite alone," Sarah said firmly, finishing her Bellini.

Gus chose that moment to return to their end of the bar. "I'd watch meself if I were you, lad," he warned David with a twinkle in his eye. "Our Sarah's noat ta be trifled weth."

"So I've learned," David replied dryly.

"Same again?" Gus asked them.

"Yes," David said before Sarah could respond, "and put Miss Williams's drinks on my tab."

Sarah looked at him in surprise. "You don't have to do that," she said.

"It's my pleasure," David replied, draining the last of his Scotch.

"No, really, David," Sarah protested, "I can't let you pay for my drinks."

"You paid last time."

"That was a business dinner."

"Then consider this networking. I may even expense it," he said with a mischievous grin.

Sarah laughed at that. "Does Highclere know you're 'networking' in a pub on a Friday night?"

"What Highclere doesn't know won't hurt me," he retorted.

Gus brought their drinks over and then discretely withdrew.

Picking up his Scotch, David raised his glass in Sarah's direction and said with a sly smile, "To networking."

"To networking," Sarah replied with a laugh, touching her peach-garnished glass to his.

There was a pause as they both drank.

"Oh, by the way," David said, setting down his tumbler, "did you like the flowers?"

Sarah colored slightly. She had almost forgotten about the roses he had sent on Wednesday.

"Yes," she replied, staring at her glass as she rolled the stem between her fingers, suddenly and inexplicably feeling shy, "they were lovely." She glanced up at him then. "Thank you."

"Not at all," David said with a wave of his hand. "It seemed a fitting way to repay your hospitality."

Sarah took another sip of her drink and then turned to face him. "How did you know I like red roses?"

David's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't," he said in mild surprise. "I just went with what seemed most appropriate. I'm glad you liked them."

Sarah considered that for a moment, then nodded slightly as she reached for her drink.

"So, tell me," David resumed, "how did you come by such a remarkable knowledge of musical theater?"

Sarah smiled wryly. "My Mom's an actress," she replied. "I got to see her perform a lot when I was a kid. She even took me along to rehearsals when she couldn't find a babysitter."

"Do you still get to see her perform?"

"Not so much," Sarah replied, staring at her glass. "She moved out to California ages ago. I got to see her a couple times when I was living in New York and her company was touring, but that's about it."

"I take it that the two of you are estranged, then?"

Sarah jerked her head around to face him. "That's a rather personal question," she said with a glare.

David's eyebrows shot up. "My apologies," he replied, "I hadn't realized the subject was taboo."

Sarah sighed. She took a gulp of her Bellini, trying to regain her composure. "It's not that it's taboo, exactly," she said finally. "It's just that…my Mom and I," she paused, searching for the right words, "have had a…difficult relationship over the years."

"I'm sorry to hear that," David said quietly. "It must be very hard for you."

Sarah looked up at him in surprise. She hadn't expected sympathy from such an unlikely source. "Yeah," she said, "it is hard." She paused again. "But it's not as bad as it used to be."

"Now that there's an ocean between you?"

Sarah laughed dryly. "Partly," she conceded, "but also partly because I grew up. I still blame her for walking out on me and my Dad, but I don't hate her for it anymore." She laughed again and shook her head ruefully. "I'm not even sure why I'm telling you all this," she said. "You're a complete stranger."

"Not a _complete_ stranger," David said, quirking an eyebrow. "Some parts are missing."

Sarah couldn't help it. She threw her head back and laughed out loud.

David gave her an amused look. "I'm pleased I can elicit such a reaction from you."

Sarah drew a deep breath. She realized that she was actually starting to enjoy his company. "I didn't know you had such a good sense of humor," she said, still smiling.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he quipped, giving her a roguish look over the rim of his glass.

"I'll just bet there is," Sarah retorted, sipping her drink. "So, what about you? What's your family like?"

David shrugged, regarding the drink in his hand. "There's not much to tell," he responded. "I have no siblings, and both of my parents are deceased."

"Oh," Sarah said, "I'm sorry to hear that."

David shrugged again, still staring into his glass. "It happened a long time ago," he said.

"But you still miss them," Sarah said quietly.

David looked up at her. "Yes," he replied the same tone, "I still miss them." He took a gulp of Scotch, then changed the subject. "So," he said casually, "is there a Mr. Williams?"

Sarah smirked at that. _Took ya long enough_ , she thought. Deciding to have some fun, she said aloud, "Oh, yes. There's a Mr. Williams."

The look on David's face was priceless. "I see," he said. "Does he know that you are currently sitting at a bar and planning on spending your evening alone?"

"I doubt it," Sarah said with a noncommittal shrug, not looking at him, but enjoying his discomfort. "He's probably with Karen right now."

"Is Karen your daughter?"

Sarah laughed. "No. Karen's a little too old to be my daughter. I don't have any children."

David frowned. "So, your husband is spending time with another woman instead of with you?"

Sarah laughed again. She was enjoying this, but David looked so distraught that she decided to take pity on him and end the charade. "No, silly," she said, "Karen's my stepmother. The only Mr. Williams in my life is my father."

"So, you're unattached?" he asked. Despite his apparent nonchalance, Sarah was sure she detected a faint trace of hopefulness in his tone.

"Yes," she replied with a grin, "I am, as you put it, 'unattached.'"

"What about a paramour?"

"You mean a boyfriend?"

David nodded.

Sarah smiled. "No boyfriend, either. I'm terminally single." She let him process that as she drained her glass and began to nibble on the slice of peach that had been garnishing it. "So, what about you?" she asked. "Is there a Mrs. Jones-King?"

"Not since my mother passed away."

"So, you're unattached, too?"

David nodded again.

"No 'paramour'?"

David grinned. "No, no paramour," he replied.

Sarah nodded at that. A silence fell between them as they stared off in opposite directions, contemplating what had just been said. David ran his hand over his hair and cleared his throat, just as Gus reappeared in front of them, eyeing their empty glasses. "Another round?" he asked.

Sarah pondered for a moment, then glanced at David. "I think not, Gus," she said. "If I have another drink, I might fall asleep right here."

"Am I such poor company?" David asked with an inscrutable look.

"Hardly," Sarah replied, "I'm just exhausted. Like I said, it's been a long, hard week."

David seemed to accept her answer and nodded. "Another time, perhaps?" he asked.

Sarah eyed him thoughtfully. "Perhaps," she replied.

David reached into the interior pocket of his suit jacket and removed a business card and a fountain pen. He scribbled something on the back of the card and offered it to Sarah.

"What's this?" she asked with raised brows.

"My mobile," he replied with a grin. "Just in case."

Sarah hesitated a moment before taking the card from him. The front read:

David Jones-King

Underwriter

Highclere Syndicate

Lloyd's of London

His work number and email address were printed below. Flipping the card over, she saw his mobile number written in the same, bold handwriting that had been on the card he had sent with the roses.

Wordlessly, she tucked David's card into her purse and took out one of her own. Holding out her hand, she said, "May I?"

David cocked an eyebrow and handed her his pen. Sarah quickly jotted her own mobile number on the back of the card and handed it to David along with his pen.

"Just in case," she said, meeting his eyes. Their fingers lightly brushed as he took the items from her. Sarah noticed for the first time that evening that he wasn't wearing his usual leather gloves.

David glanced at her card and then tucked it and the pen away inside the breast of his suit with a satisfied smirk.

He waved Gus over and paid the bill.

"Shall I call you a cab?" David asked.

"No, thanks," Sarah replied, standing up. David rose along with her. "I usually take the tube from Aldgate."

"Then allow me to accompany you to the station."

Sarah regarded him. "All right," she agreed.

Seeing them preparing to leave, Gus caught Sarah's eye and gave her a quizzical look, nodding in David's direction. Sarah smiled and winked at him. Gus chuckled and winked back before turning to his other patrons.

"Is he always so protective?" David asked, apparently having witnessed the silent exchange.

Sarah laughed. "Gus is my buddy," she said. "He seems to think it's his duty to keep an eye on me. He treats me like a daughter or a favorite niece. It's nice to have someone looking out for me so far from home."

Sarah and David left the pub and ambled slowly down the street, making desultory conversation as they walked. When they reached Aldgate Station, David took her hand in his and kissed it lightly, as he had done previously.

"It's been a very pleasant evening, Sarah," he said warmly, not taking his eyes from hers. "I hope to see you again soon."

"Likewise," Sarah responded, feeling her cheeks growing warm.

It wasn't until she was seated on the train and was pulling out of the station that she realized that she hadn't once thought of the Goblin King all evening.

~o*0*o~

The weekend passed quietly, and Sarah was glad of the chance to lounge around her flat and read in peace. Although, if she was honest with herself, she was a little disappointed when Sunday night arrived, and David had not called. _Snap out of it Williams_ , she told herself. _You only met him a week ago._

On Monday morning, Bryan began handing out assignments for the next policy renewal.

"You did a good job with the last policy," he said to Sarah. "Do you think you're up for taking charge earlier in the process?"

"Absolutely," Sarah responded.

"Good."

Handing her the draft, he directed her across Leadenhall Street to Lloyd's to review the policy language with several of the underwriters.

"Which ones do I need to talk to?" Sarah asked, taking notes and hiding the sudden flutter of nervousness she felt. Bryan had never trusted her with this stage of the negotiations before.

"Southington, Dorchester Limited, and Highclere," Bryan responded.

Sarah paused at the mention of Highclere, but said nothing. Gathering the necessary paperwork, she left the building, dodged the traffic flowing down Leadenhall Street, and entered Lloyd's of London.

If the exterior of the Lloyd's Building looked like a transplant from the Hong Kong skyline, then the interior reminded her of nothing so much as a shopping mall. Given that Lloyd's was an insurance marketplace, her mental comparison was not that far off. The central atrium of the Underwriting Room was an impressive feat of architecture. Gray, concrete pillars soared upward towards the vaulted, glass roof, the many intervening floors connected by sweeping, open-air escalators. The atrium was surrounded on all sides by floor upon floor of desks and computer terminals – the "boxes" – at which sat thousands of busy underwriters. Agents and brokers like herself scurried around consulting with the underwriters whose turn it was to be "in the box" for the day. The whole place was reminiscent of a beehive at the height of summer.

Sarah entered the Underwriting Room and consulted the seating plan near the Rostrum that housed the Lutine Bell. The plan changed from year to year, depending on which insurance companies were participating in the marketplace. She noted down the locations of the companies she needed to meet with and set off.

Deciding to save Highclere for last, she first approached Southington, and then Dorchester Limited. The policy reviews were tedious and time-consuming, and it was mid-afternoon before she finally found herself approaching the Highclere box. Several underwriters sat at their desks, some talking on phones, others typing furiously, still others speaking with the agents and brokers who hovered near their shoulders.

The underwriter seated at the end desk was wearing a crisp, blue-gray suit and sat with erect posture. Even before the perfectly-coifed blonde head turned in her direction, she knew it was David. A warm smile spread across his face when he saw her.

"We seem to keep running into one another," he drawled, rising from his seat to take her hand.

"Yes," Sarah laughed, "and we really must stop meeting like this. People will talk."

"Will they?" David asked with a raised eyebrow. "How exciting."

Sarah felt herself start to blush.

"I assume this isn't a social call," he continued, as though sensing her discomfort.

"You assume correctly," she responded. "Mr. Nasmith asked me to have the policy wording reviewed."

"How tiresome," David groaned. He glanced at his watch. "I haven't had a break all day, and I'm famished," he continued. "What do you say we continue this discussion over coffee?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "More networking?" she responded coyly.

David grinned. "Precisely."

"Suits me," Sarah replied, "as long as you don't mind if I have tea instead of coffee."

David donned his fedora and gloves and ushered her towards the escalator. "I thought you Americans were positively fastidious about your coffee," he remarked.

"Not me," Sarah laughed. "I'm a total tea jenny."

David smiled. "That makes two of us."

They made their way out of Lloyd's and into a small teashop around the corner. Seating themselves at a table by the window, they ordered a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches.

"Thank God," Sarah sighed as she leaned back in her chair. "My feet are killing me. I'm so glad I don't have to go into Lloyd's every day."

"You and me both," David replied, as he began to pour. "I much prefer working in a room where I can close the door and think in peace."

"Far from the madding crowd?" Sarah quipped.

"Got in one," David grinned. "Milk or sugar?"

"Both," Sarah responded. "I like a good builder's brew."

David smiled as he passed her a teacup and saucer. "Not many Americans know that expression," he said thoughtfully.

"I'm not many Americans," she retorted.

He quirked an eyebrow. "I'm finding that out more and more," he replied.

They sipped their tea in what Sarah realized was a rather companionable silence.

"Now then," David continued, polishing off his sandwich, "let's take a look at that policy, shall we?"

For the next several hours, they pored over the document in question, dissecting the language and arguing ad nauseam about coverage details, exclusions, and omissions. David attacked the policy with an incisive acumen far beyond what the other underwriters had displayed. He was demanding and pedantic, quibbling over the finest details until the policy was finally to his liking.

Sarah sat back with a groan, gratefully reaching for the fresh cup of tea David had just poured for her. They were on their third pot.

"How do you do this every day?" she asked as she sipped the steaming liquid.

"Practice," David replied with a grin.

"Well," Sarah sighed, "I'm glad that's over."

"For now," David said.

"I know, I know," Sarah waved an impatient hand. "It'll all be reworked next week. I know better than to get my hopes up that this is the end of the revisions."

"Speaking of next week," David said, carefully setting down his teacup, "what are you doing on Sunday evening?"

Sarah eyed him warily. "Why do you ask?"

"I've managed to secure tickets to a performance that I think you might enjoy. Would you accompany me?"

Sarah hesitated. Her company didn't have a firm no-fraternization policy, but that didn't mean that becoming romantically involved with an underwriter working on the same policy was necessarily a good idea.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" she asked cautiously.

"Do you want me to be?" he asked, meeting her eyes.

After a moment, Sarah broke eye contact and looked out the window, watching the last light of the setting sun glint off the buildings on the south bank of the Thames. She glanced down at her hands, which, to her surprise, were folded tightly in her lap. "It's not that I don't want to go out with you, David," she began.

"But you're worried about a professional conflict of interest," he finished for her.

She looked up to him in surprise. "It occurred to me, too," he added with a wry smile.

"Yes," Sarah admitted. "I don't want to be one of those people who put their careers ahead of everything else," she added, "but Bryan – Mr. Nasmith – is finally allowing me to take more of a leadership role, and…I don't want to jeopardize that."

David nodded. "I understand," he said quietly.

"David," she began.

He held up his hand, stopping her. "It's fine," he said. "We won't go on a date."

Sarah nodded ruefully. _Great job, Williams_ , she thought, _you just blew it – big time_.

"That having been said," he continued, "would you still go with me to the performance on Sunday?"

She stared at him. "But – "

"Let's just say that we're two colleagues who wish to spend time enjoying one another's company and see where things go from there. If we decide at some point that we wish to form a more…romantic attachment," he quirked an eyebrow suggestively, "we can then discuss what to tell our respective employers." He cocked his head and regarded her for a moment. "What do you say, Sarah?" he asked leaning forward across the table. "Will you be my guest at the theater on Sunday?"

Sarah smiled and shook her head. "You certainly know how to get your own way," she said.

"It's a talent."

"Fine," she replied in exasperation, raising her hands in surrender, "I'll go with you to the theater on Sunday."

"Excellent!" he declared, sitting back with obvious satisfaction.

"So, what are we going to see?"

"That, my dear," he said with a sly grin, "is a surprise."

* * *

A/N

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. Over 30 follows after only 2 chapters! That makes me so excited! I'm glad you all are enjoying this.

I'm trying to post one chapter a week; so far, so good. Chapter 4 may be delayed slightly, as I will be traveling next weekend.

Oh my, what performance could they possibly be going to see? I'll give you all a hint – it's one of the musicals mentioned in Chapter 2.

Yes, "Highclere" is an oblique Downton Abbey reference. Kudos to Honoria Granger for picking up on it. To anyone not familiar with the show, it was filmed at Highclere Castle in Hampshire, England.

And, yes, David can be a jerk. He's getting better, though. Slowly.


	4. Chapter 4 - EnjoyingOneAnother'sCompany

Standard Fanfiction Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations created and dramatized by Terry Jones, Brian Froud, Jim Henson, David Bowie, et al. I do not own Labyrinth, nor am I making any money from it.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Enjoying One Another's Company**

Sarah did not see David again in person for the rest of the week. They exchanged emails about work topics, and he texted her on Friday to confirm her address and the time he would be picking her up, but, otherwise, they had no contact.

The time apart gave Sarah a chance to step back from the situation and do some serious thinking. She hadn't been lying when she had told David that she didn't want to put her career before her personal needs and desires. On the other hand, she wasn't sure she was ready to commit to something beyond a casual relationship. She rather enjoyed being single and relished her independence. However, she also knew that going on a few dates with David didn't exactly mean making a life-long commitment.

Then, and this was something she had been avoiding thinking about, there was his uncanny resemblance to a certain someone. They looked the same and talked the same – they even used similar speech patterns and had the same condescending air of superiority – but she found it incredible that David could be anything more than simply the Goblin King's doppelganger. The more time she spent with David, the less likely it seemed to her that the two men could be one and the same.

Besides, despite their initial conflict, she was growing to like David. She had always been fascinated by – and, yes, she had to admit, infatuated with – the Goblin King, but she wasn't sure that she liked him. He was too much of a domineering trickster and far too keen on getting his own way. That dogged determination was another thing he had in common with David, although David's methods were far more subtle and beguiling.

Yes, in some ways, David was just a bit too much like you-know-who for comfort. Still, Goblin King look-alike or not, he _was_ attractive, and he _was_ obviously interested in her. Deciding to give David the benefit of the doubt, she resolved to simply enjoy the time they spent together and, as David had put it, see where things went from there. It would be foolish to pass up the opportunity to at least explore the possibility.

Sunday morning found Sarah wrapped in her robe and carefully applying her make-up, while her smartphone worked its way through her music library. She had set her Favorites playlist to random mode and was lustily singing along to every song as the music played through the wireless speakers. This might not be an official "date," but she wanted to look her best, anyway. Putting the final touches on her eyeshadow, she stepped back from the mirror and assessed her appearance. She had spent extra time curling her hair and had worked it into an elegant, half-up style that softly framed her face, while leaving most of her tresses free. The overall effect was a luxurious cascade of dark curls that flowed gracefully down her back and almost to her waist.

Not knowing what type of performance David was taking her to, Sarah wasn't sure what to wear. When she had pressed him for some kind of hint, he had proved to be recalcitrant, refusing to give her even the slightest detail.

Trying to coax something out of him, she had told him, "I'll let you in on a little secret. The first thing that goes through a woman's mind when she's invited somewhere is 'What do I wear?' Please, give me something to work with," she had pleaded.

David had tilted his head and regarded her thoughtfully before finally replying, "Let's just say that the green dress you wore to the business dinner would not be out of place." After that, he had refused to say anything further on the subject.

Sarah sighed as she stood in front of her closet, eyeing her wardrobe. She was nervous about dressing at the same level as David. His appearance was always impeccable, and she had, so far, not seen him in the same outfit twice. Either Highclere paid its underwriters well, or he was independently wealthy, she reflected. She received a generous housing allowance from her employer as an incentive to work in London, but her salary was still not enough to afford a wide array of high-end clothing. Still, she bought the best she could afford and took good care of her clothes to make them last.

Narrowing her selection down to two dresses – one red and one teal – she stood in front of the full-length mirror, holding up first one dress, then the other, trying to decide which one was more appropriate. She finally settled on the red one and, glancing at the time, hurriedly slipped it on and zipped up the back. The tight dress was sleeveless and had a far more daring neckline than her green one, the front plunging into a deep V that ended in a small amount of ruching between her breasts. The hem fell several inches above her knees and was among shortest dresses she owned. She slipped into black, patent leather, open-toed pumps that did extraordinary things to her calves and once again stood before the mirror. She looked hot, if she did say so herself; she just hoped she wasn't overdoing it. Opening her jewelry box, she selected a chunky silver bracelet and matching necklace.

The current song ended, and she could hear the opening strains of "Miracle Goodnight." Scooping up the dangling silver earrings that matched her other jewelry, she began to bop and shimmy around the room to the bouncy, muted horns of the intro. Just then, she heard a sharp knock at the door. David was right on time.

 _Future full and empty knocking on my door_

She made her way to the front door and opened it to find him lounging against the door jamb, hands thrust into his pockets and legs crossed. He was wearing a light gray, three-piece suit with a red tie and the ubiquitous matching pocket square. He peered at Sarah from underneath the brim of his usual fedora, an appraising and appreciative look in his blue eyes as he took in her appearance. She felt her insides do a little flutter; he looked sexy as hell standing there like that. _Good thing I picked the red dress_ , she thought.

"Um…hi," she said, at a loss for anything more profound to say.

"Hi, yourself," he replied with a grin. "You look positively stunning."

Sarah blushed. "Thanks," she said, "you don't look so bad yourself. Come on in."

She stepped back and invited him inside, closing the door behind him. Turning, she saw that he had removed his hat and was gazing around her living room with obvious interest, cocking his head to listen to the music.

 _Morning star you're beautiful, yellow dime on high_

"You really are a David Bowie fan, aren't you?" he teased.

"Told you," she replied with a grin. "I'm almost ready. I just need to put on my earrings."

"No hurry," he responded. "We've got plenty of time."

 _Haven't got a death wish, just want a little more_

Sarah went over to the mirror hanging in her entryway and threaded the French hooks into her ears, taking an extra moment to pat her hair into place one last time. Glancing past her reflection, she saw that David was watching her in the mirror, his face unreadable. Their eyes met for a moment.

 _Breath tell me – turn it around_

 _Heart tell me – make it all right_

As she turned back around to face him, David stepped closer and tenderly put his arms around her, pulling her close. Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat at the intimate gesture.

 _I wished I had a future, anywhere_

Then, without warning, he began to dance, leading her into a simple swing step. She gasped in surprise, but followed his lead.

 _I love you in the morning sun, I love you in my dreams_

 _I love the sound of making love, the feeling of your skin_

 _The corner of your eyes_

His eyes never left hers, except when he deftly turned her under his arm in perfect rhythm.

 _I long forevermore_

 _I never want to say goodnight, miracle goodnight_

His steps were flawless as he led and guided her wordlessly through the dance. She realized she was staring at him open-mouthed and had a momentary flashback to her masquerade dance with the Goblin King. However, aside from the superficial similarity in her dance partners, this felt much different. It took her a while to figure out why, but then it hit her. Dancing with the Goblin King, she had been a plaything; dancing with David, she was an equal.

He twirled her away from him again and then pulled her back effortlessly, holding her closer than before as he gazed into her eyes once more.

 _Don't want to know the past, I want to know the real deal_

 _I really don't want to know that_

 _The less we know, the better we feel_

As the key of the music changed, he spun her away once again so that they were now dancing apart, only their hands touching. He experimented with more and more complicated steps and turns, and Sarah found that, despite not having danced in years, she was able to follow him with ease.

 _Spinning around my little room, miracle_

They danced all around her tiny living room, carefully avoiding the furniture. Sarah smiled broadly; she was enjoying this. She loved to dance, and David made an excellent partner. His movements were fluid and graceful.

 _Breath tell me – turn it around_

 _Heart tell me – make it all right_

As the song came to an end, he pulled her close once again and lowered her into a deep dip, leaning over her as the final words fading around them.

 _It was only make believe_

Sarah looked up at him, her arms around his neck for support. The song had ended, yet he still hadn't released her. He was staring down at her, his eyes burning into hers with an intensity that made her shiver. She wondered why he was looking at her like that, but, then, she couldn't see what David was seeing in that moment. She couldn't see the way her green eyes sparkled up at him, her pupils dilated; the way her lips were parted breathlessly; the way her slightly labored breathing made her pale chest rise and fall against the crimson outline of her dress; the way her dark hair fell away behind her in a silken cascade. All she could see was David's handsome face and the hunger in his pale eyes. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Then, he abruptly pulled her upright and set her on her feet again.

The spell was broken. They stood awkwardly, his hands still on her waist, and her arms still around his neck.

"We should be going," he said thickly, turning away from her.

"Yeah," Sarah breathed.

After a moment, he turned back to face her. "Thank you for indulging me with a dance," he said.

"You're welcome," Sarah replied. "I haven't done swing since college. I'm amazed I still remember how."

"You're very graceful," he said. "If you like dancing, there are plenty of clubs in Soho I could take you to."

"Thank you," Sarah replied shyly. "I think I'd like that."

He smiled and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

 _Colleagues,_ Sarah reminded herself as he led the way out of her flat, _we're just colleagues spending time together._ So, why had this felt so much like a date from the moment she had opened the door?

~o*0*o~

They took a cab to a small Italian restaurant not far from King's Cross Station. David had insisted that they have lunch before the matinee performance, and Sarah had found no reason to object. He had obviously made reservations, as they were shown to a small, corner table immediately. The ambiance was simple, but elegant, and the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen made Sarah realize just how hungry she was. She perused the menu nervously, trying not to look at the prices. This was the most expensive restaurant she had ever been to, and that was saying something.

"If you don't stop doing that, I'll have them bring you one without prices," David said.

Sarah looked up, startled. "What?"

"A menu," he explained. "Without prices."

"Why would I want a menu without prices?"

"Because you're obviously disturbed by how much the food costs."

"How can you tell?"

"Your eyes widen every time you look to the right," he explained. "You're looking at the prices."

Sarah laughed. "That obvious, huh?"

"Only to someone who's looking at your face."

Sarah shot him a look. "You could try not looking," she suggested.

"Where would be the fun in that?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Do you ever get tired of teasing me?" she asked.

"No," he said simply.

"So, what's good here?"

"Sarah, order whatever you want. I'm paying."

"Not Highclere?"

The look he shot her had a definite edge to it. She must have hit a nerve.

"I only expense those things that are clearly business-related."

"Like our drinks the other night?"

"After work socializing with a colleague."

"And how is today different? We're colleagues, and we're socializing."

He closed his menu and rested his elbow on it, leaning across the table towards her. "Am I to be forever relegated to the realm of 'colleague' where you're concerned, Sarah?"

"Not necessarily."

"And what, pray tell, must one do to move beyond the narrow confines of a business relationship?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something, David."

The look he gave her clearly told her that he already _had_ thought of something. The idea made her blush.

"I wonder what stray thought just made its way through that pretty head of yours," he mused.

She was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the waiter. They selected their entrees, and, after a brief discussion, David ordered a bottle of wine. It turned out to be a robust Malbec, which paired very well with their food.

They made light conversation while they ate. As the waiter was clearing their plates, he asked, "Dessert for the lady?"

"No, thank you," Sarah responded. "I can't eat another bite."

"Afterwards, perhaps?" David asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

She wasn't entirely sure that he was still talking about food.

"Perhaps," she replied.

He glanced at his watch. "We had better be going," he said. "I need to collect our tickets from the box office."

They left the restaurant and walked along the sidewalk arm-in-arm.

"So, come on, David," Sarah pleaded. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he smirked. "I told you – it's a surprise."

Sarah just sighed and shook her head. David abruptly stopped and led her to the curb.

"Here we are, then," he said, nodding across the street.

They were standing opposite King's Cross Theatre. A brightly lit sign announced the final performance of _Lazarus_ on January 22. Sarah stared at the sign, then at David.

"What do mean?" she asked.

David nodded again in the direction of the theater. "We're here," he said simply. "This is the theater we're going to."

Sarah's jaw dropped in utter astonishment.

" _Here_?" she squeaked.

David grinned broadly, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Yes," he said.

"But today is – " she began.

"January twenty-second," David replied.

"We're going to see _Lazarus_?"

"Yes," he said again.

Sarah stared at him. "You're serious."

"Yes," he said for a third time, chuckling.

"Oh my – David – I, I don't know what to say," Sarah stammered.

"Then, don't say anything," David replied. "Come on." He took her hand and pulled her across the street, checking for traffic as he did so. Sarah allowed herself to be led up to the will-call box where David collected their tickets.

 _I must be dreaming_ , she thought. _This can't be real_.

David reached for her hand again, snapping her out of her stupor. "Let's go inside, shall we?" he asked.

They entered the theater, checked her coat and his hat, and presented their tickets to the usher, who directed them to the proper section. David had managed to get fairly decent seats, and it was only after they were seated and had programs in their hands that Sarah finally found her voice.

"How did you manage to get tickets to _Lazarus_?"

"What is that expression you Americans use? Oh, yes, 'I know a guy.'"

Sarah laughed. "You know a guy."

"Yes," David replied. "An old friend, who just happens to have connections in the theater world."

"He must be some friend," Sarah commented.

"Who said it was a 'he'?" David asked.

Sarah turned to him. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

"Is it working?"

Sarah gave him an exasperated half-glare, but refused to comment.

"Interesting," David observed, cocking an eyebrow at her mockingly.

Sarah felt her cheeks grow warm. She bent her head and studied her program, not wanting to meet David's eyes. After a moment, he placed his hand over hers. She looked up at him.

"My apologies," he said quietly. "I'm an incurable flirt, and I sometimes let myself get carried away. Forgive me?"

He gave her the saddest puppy-dog eyes she had ever seen. Sarah laughed and shook her head.

"David, you're incorrigible," she said.

"I know."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Fine. I forgive you."

"Good," he said, sitting back in his seat. "And 'he' actually is a 'he,'" he added, not looking at her and trying not to laugh as he studied his own program.

Sarah swatted playfully at his arm.

"Ow," he cried, rubbing his arm theatrically. "That hurt!"

"Serves you right," Sarah replied.

"I wonder what you'd do if you were _really_ angry with me," he commented.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Oh, yes," he replied with a provocative look, "I most certainly would."

"Cad," Sarah replied.

"Tease," he responded.

"Lech."

"Minx."

"Lothario."

"Wench."

The dimming of the house lights interrupted their banter.

"This isn't over," Sarah hissed in a whisper.

"I dearly hope not," David whispered back.

It was only then that Sarah realized he was still holding her hand. She briefly considered pulling away from him, but she found the feel of his warm hand on hers to be not unpleasant. Deciding to just leave things be for the moment, she turned her attention to the stage.

~o*0*o~

The performance was unlike anything Sarah had ever seen before. She sat spellbound, allowing the music and images to wash over her. She found it difficult to put her impressions into words and decided that it was simply one of the most incredible things she had ever experienced. She was in tears by the end and joined the rest of the audience in a prolonged standing ovation, which included a moving tribute to the late David Bowie, himself.

When the house lights finally came back up, Sarah wiped her eyes and, turning to David, threw her arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear. "That was…amazing."

Her actions caught him off guard, and he simply stood there for a moment, stunned, before wrapping his arms around her and hugging her in return. "You're welcome," he said simply.

The crowd around them began to make its way into the aisles and out of the theater, and Sarah and David joined them. When they were once again outside the theater in the gathering gloom of early evening, David turned to her and said, "Would you care to come back to my flat for a drink?"

Sarah looked at him speculatively.

"I promise to be on my best behavior," he added impishly.

"Where's the fun in that?" Sarah countered.

"Is that a challenge?" David asked, cocking his head at her.

"Do you want it to be?"

"Very much."

Sarah regarded him for a moment. "All right," she said finally, "we can go to your place. But _only_ for a drink."

David smiled and took her hand, then hailed a passing cab.

~o*0*o~

The cab deposited them in front of a dingy bookshop on a colorful side street in Soho. Neon lights adorned many of the facades of the buildings around them, advertising anything and everything. Faint jazz music drifted from a club several doors down.

David led the way to a door just to the left of the bookshop's front windows. It opened into a small foyer with a wooden staircase leading upwards. On the first-floor landing, he removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to his right, stepping back to usher Sarah inside.

"Ladies first," he said with a slight bow.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him and lifted her chin defiantly before stepping over the threshold. The small entryway led to a hallway running from the front to the back of the building. To the left, she could see doors that, presumably, led to the bedroom and bathroom. The kitchen was straight ahead, and, to the right, the hallway opened into a spacious front room, the windows of which overlooked the street.

She wasn't quite sure what she had been expecting David's flat to be like, but it was clearly an extension of the man himself. The décor in the room was well-ordered and inherently masculine – all brown leather and dark wood paneling. The wall to her left was made up entirely of bookshelves, which were neatly filled with volumes of every size and color. Standing near the bookshelves was a well-worn, high-backed wing chair upholstered in burgundy velvet with a matching ottoman. An open book lay face down on one of the arms and a small side table with a Tiffany style reading lamp stood to one side. It looked like David spent a lot of time there.

A leather couch stood along the righthand wall, faced across a low, wooden coffee table by two matching armchairs. Hanging above the couch was a rustic landscape painting depicting a wilderness of fields and, far off in the distance, a forest. It looked like an original, but Sarah was unfamiliar with the artist. An occasional table holding a small replica of the Venus de Milo sat between the two front windows, which were covered by heavy, burgundy drapes, and a large, wooden cabinet stood to her immediate right. There was no sign of any electronics.

Sarah paused in the doorway and took in the room. David came up behind her. "Well? What do you think?"

"I love it."

"Do you really?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes," she replied, "it's very you."

David grinned. "That's what I was going for."

"Do you not watch TV?" she asked, stepping into the room and onto the ornately-patterned Persian carpet.

"You mean television?"

"Yeah."

"Not that often," he replied. He went over to the wooden cabinet and opened the doors to reveal a flat-screen TV and various black boxes and speakers. "I prefer to keep the idiot's lantern out of sight and out of mind when I'm not actually using it."

"What a great idea."

"Isn't it?"

He closed the cabinet and turned back to her. "Here, let me take your coat." He helped her remove her coat and disappeared back into the entryway to hang it on the hat stand with his fedora.

Curious, Sarah crossed the room to David's reading chair and peeked at the title of the open book. To her surprise, it was _The Dark Night of the Soul_ by St. John of the Cross. David returned at that moment and saw her standing there.

"Does my choice of reading material surprise you?" he asked.

Sarah jumped, startled. "Yes," she replied, turning back to him. "Somehow, I didn't expect you to be interested in religious works."

David shrugged. "Everyone is searching for something in this world."

Sarah cocked her head. "I think that's the most profound thing I've ever heard you say."

He shrugged again. "It's true."

"And what are you searching for?" she couldn't help asking.

David gave a wry smile. "Maybe I'll tell you," he said. "One day. When I've figured it out myself."

He turned abruptly and made his way to a small table near the door that held an assortment of liquor bottles, with different shaped glasses on a lower shelf. "Now, what can I get you?"

"Whatever you're having is fine."

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "I was planning on having Scotch."

"That works."

He gave her a speculative look. "Is this an occasion that warrants a stiff drink?" he asked playfully.

"That remains to be seen," Sarah quipped.

Smiling, he turned back to pour their drinks.

She wandered over to the bookshelves and began to peruse his library. David seemed to have a wide taste in literature. She found everything from biographies to fantasy, with a healthy dose of medieval history thrown in for good measure. He came and stood beside her, a glass in each hand. He offered one to her, which she took, then he wrapped his free arm around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder.

After a moment, he placed his glass on one of the shelves and wrapped his other arm around her waist, as well, stepping behind her and pulling her close to him. She drew in her breath. David began to gently nuzzle her neck, his breath warm on her skin. Sarah shuddered. He then began to softly and tenderly kiss her neck, allowing his lips to caress her skin. She reached out to grab a bookshelf for support.

"What happened to 'colleagues enjoying one another's company'?" she breathed.

"I'm enjoying your company immensely," he purred, nipping playfully on her earlobe. "Are you enjoying mine?"

"Yes," Sarah replied. She set her glass down next to his so she didn't spill her drink.

"Then, what's the problem?" he asked, trailing light kisses back down the sensitive side of her neck.

"I didn't say there was a problem." Sarah's eyes drifted closed. What he was doing felt _so_ good.

She felt him smile against her skin, as he rested his chin on her shoulder and his cheek against her neck. His warm breath ghosted down her chest, making her shiver.

"Am I making you nervous, Sarah?"

"No."

He angled his head downwards, kissing the base of her neck where it joined her shoulder. Sarah reached up a hand and ran it through his hair, effectively pulling him closer to her. She felt, rather than heard, him make a low sound in his throat not unlike a growl.

He lifted his head and gently turned her to face him. Sarah raised her arms and put her hands around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and, using his body, pushed her backwards slightly, so that she was leaning against the bookshelves. He paused then and simply looked at her, his eyes holding hers. Sarah felt her heart pounding in her ears and realized she was holding her breath.

David slowly leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, then another. Sarah tilted her head to meet him, returning his kisses. By the third kiss, she was pushing forward against him, trying to take control. He pressed her back against the bookshelves, not giving an inch. She slid her hands up his neck and ran her fingers through his blonde hair, holding him against her as her lips caressed his and her tongue forced its way into his mouth. She wasn't sure which of them was more surprised by her actions, for she heard the sharp intake of his breath and felt his arms tighten around her as their kiss deepened.

They finally broke apart, gasping for breath. David leaned his forehead against hers and rested one hand on the shelf next to her head to steady himself. Sarah realized that they were breathing in tandem, their chests rising and falling as one. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her.

"Well, that was unexpected," he said.

Sarah frowned at him. "What was?"

"You," he said simply. "You're far more passionate than I realized."

"Does that bother you?"

He smiled and closed his eyes. "Not at all. In fact, it's quite refreshing."

"Known a lot of women, have you?" she quipped.

"Yes," he admitted, "but none quite like you."

They stood that way for a while longer, both simply enjoying the warmth and closeness of their bodies.

It was Sarah who broke the silence. "I should go."

David's eyes snapped open. He looked at her intently, but said nothing.

"Before I do something I will regret."

"Is that how you see me?" he asked, his eyes hardening. "As something that you will regret?"

"That's not what I meant," Sarah replied gently.

"Then, what did you mean?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "I meant that we've only known each other for two weeks, and I don't want to rush into anything," she explained. "I'm into you, David – far more into you than I expected to be, to be honest." One corner of his mouth quirked smugly at that. "And you're obviously into me," she continued with a slight smile, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair from his eyes. "But, we don't need to rush things. You don't have to worry about me running away; I'm not going anywhere. I want to see where this goes just as much as you do," she added cocking an eyebrow at him. "But not tonight."

David looked at her, his expression unreadable. "You are a fascinating woman, Sarah Williams," he said. He kissed her again, lightly this time, then pulled her into a tight hug, holding her to him and breathing deeply into her hair. Drawing back, he said, "Come on, then. I'll take you home."

"I think it might be better if you just called me a cab," Sarah replied.

David smiled ruefully. "You're probably right," he admitted.

He gathered his hat and gloves before helping her with her coat. Then, he led her outside and hailed a cab. They paused beside the curb, and he drew her close for one final kiss before handing her into the waiting vehicle.

"Good night, Sarah," he said. "Pleasant dreams."

"Good night, David," she replied.

As the cab pulled away, Sarah leaned back in her seat and sighed contentedly. This evening had not gone at all as she had expected it to. _No_ , she thought to herself, _it went so much better_.

* * *

A/N

Finally! This chapter gave me a lot of problems, and I'm not really sure why. I knew where I needed it to go, but I had trouble segueing from one scene to the next. It's finally at a place where I'm happy with it, and I hope you all like it, too. Many, many thanks to my DH, Sea Beam, who has been incredibly long-suffering in reading my work and offering criticism and ideas.

I had not originally intended to do any kind of songfic. However, I heard "Miracle Goodnight" when I was working on Chapter 2, and it just seemed to fit the situation and the characters so well that I decided to run with it. It's from David Bowie's 1993 album _Black Tie White Noise_. If you haven't seen the video for it, it's on Youtube and is quite mesmerizing.

The whole "menu without prices" conversation is taken straight out of my own personal dating history. My first boyfriend used to threaten to get me menus without prices at fancy restaurants.

I know several of you have actually seen _Lazarus_ , and I am so jealous. It must have been wonderful.

I decided to give David a vast library before I remembered that DB himself was a voracious reader. Serendipity. Shoot, _I_ want David's living room!

And, yes, UST has entered the picture! Enjoy.


	5. Chapter 5 - A More Romantic Attachment

Standard Fanfiction Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations created and dramatized by Terry Jones, Brian Froud, Jim Henson, David Bowie, et al. I do not own Labyrinth, nor am I making any money from it.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: A More Romantic Attachment**

The next day, Sarah found it nearly impossible to concentrate on her job. She was either replaying the incredible musical in her head, or thinking about David. She kept reliving their brief encounter in his flat over and over again, running it through her mind, dissecting it, savoring it. She could recall in excruciating detail how his lips had felt as he had kissed her, how his arms had felt as he had embraced her, how his hair had felt between her fingers.

It hadn't helped matters that she had stepped out of the shower that morning to discover a text from David on her phone.

D: I very much enjoyed your company yesterday

Flushing slightly, Sarah tapped out a brief response.

S: Me too

D: Perhaps we could do it again sometime?

S: Perhaps

She had waited for several minutes, but David had not replied. Was he playing hard to get, or just trying not to appear overeager? Neither seemed to fit David's personality. Perhaps he was simply giving her the space she had requested. The more she reflected on it, the more that made sense. He seemed to have no qualms about single-mindedly pursuing something he wanted. Sarah shivered delightedly at the thought that _she_ was the something David was pursuing. The thought made her giddy. He had respected her boundaries the evening before, even as he had systematically tested them, finding the line, but not actually crossing it. Here was a novelty in Sarah's adult life – a man who was actively pursuing her, yet respected her enough to do so at her pace, and not his. _Don't let this one get away, Williams_ , she thought. _He's definitely a keeper_.

Sarah caught herself staring idly out her office window at Lloyd's and wondering if David was in the box today. She didn't have any compelling reason to go across the street and investigate, and it was probably just as well.

Late Monday afternoon, Bryan called Sarah into his office. "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Staffordshire account has had a loss. A big one. One of their oil rigs in the North Sea collapsed."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No, thank goodness, but the whole rig is a loss, and the environmental impact will take months to assess. There may even be international ramifications. We'll be burning the midnight oil on this one for a while."

"Okay," Sarah said. "What do you need me to do first?"

"Run through the policy and give me a breakdown of limits, coverages, exclusions, all that stuff. That should be enough to start with."

"Do we know the cause of the collapse?"

"Not yet. Details are still coming it. I just want us to be as prepared as possible when we finally have all the information."

"Got it."

The entire office stayed late and ordered takeaway from a local shawarma eatery. Sarah did not arrive home until after nine.

After kicking off her shoes and putting the kettle on, she sank into her favorite armchair and glanced at her phone. There were no texts or voicemails from David. Disappointed, she briefly considered reaching out to him, but, not knowing his schedule, she decided against it. It was too soon in their burgeoning relationship for her to be contacting him late at night.

Besides, she rationalized, he was probably already in bed, or else lazing in his wing chair reading. She had a brief mental image of David, sans tie for once, with his long legs stretched out on the ottoman, the dark room around him illuminated only by the glow from his reading lamp. The thought made her smile.

There was no word from David on Tuesday, but Sarah was so busy at work that she hardly noticed. It was another late night, and she went to bed as soon as she got home.

Wednesday wasn't much better. Details were still sketchy on the rig collapse, and Staffordshire's immediate focus was on stemming the flow of oil from the seabed, rather than determining whether or not to file a claim. Sarah presented her review of the policy to Bryan and spent the rest of her day fielding phone calls from various insurance companies. She relayed what information she had and did her best to assuage their fears. There would be plenty of time for finger pointing and wrangling over fault and liability once the environmental damage was contained.

It was well past seven o'clock when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and felt a warm glow spread over her. It was a text from David.

D: Working late?

S: How'd you know?

D: Lucky guess

D: Hungry?

S: Starving

D: Kings Arms in 10?

S: Better make it 15

D: Deal

Sarah hastily wrapped up her work and shut down her computer. She was the last one in the office. Marjorie had departed an hour before, and even Bryan had gone home. Sarah put on her coat, grabbed her purse, and, locking the office door behind her, made her way out of the building into the cold January night.

She reached the pub quickly and was relieved to step into the warm glow of the polished wood interior. There were few patrons, and she spotted David almost immediately. He was seated at a corner table, deep in earnest conversation with Gus. The aged Scot was shaking his head and laughing heartily at the same time. Both men looked up at her approach, and Sarah saw a warm smile spread across David's angular features when he saw her. She felt herself blush at the attention.

"Hi, guys," she said awkwardly.

"Sarah!" Gus boomed. "There ya are! The lad's been waitin' fer ya."

"Has he, now?" Sarah stole a glance at David, amused to hear Gus refer to him as "lad."

"Indeed, he has," David replied, obviously not put off at all by Gus's epithet. He rose from his seat and gave Sarah a quick kiss on the cheek. "You look exhausted. Sit down and let Angus get you something to eat."

Sarah was too stunned by David's casual display of affection to do more than ask, "Angus?"

"You know him better as 'Gus.'"

Sarah turned to the barman. "I didn't know your full name was 'Angus.'"

"Aye, nawt meny do, lass. But yer lad here dragged the truth oota me, kickin' and screamin'."

"Oh, come now, Angus," David drawled as he sat back down, "you make it sound like I tortured you to gain that information, when all I did was engage you in polite conversation."

Gus chuckled. "Aye, that ya did." He turned to Sarah. "What'll it be, lass? Ya look right knackered."

"You have no idea," Sarah replied wearily as she sank gratefully onto the padded bench next to David. "I think all I want right now is fish 'n' chips and a shandy."

"Make that two," David added.

"Rightcha are," Gus replied, turning to head back into the kitchen.

David turned to Sarah, concern written on his face. "Are you all right?"

"Tired," Sarah replied, "but otherwise fine. Why do you ask?"

"Because you look like you haven't slept since I saw you last."

Sarah rubbed her hands over her face. "You're not that far off," she confessed. "I worked late every night this week and was in early yesterday and today."

"They seem to be running you ragged," David commented. "Has something happened?"

"Did you hear about the oil rig that collapsed on Monday?"

"The Staffordshire one?"

"Yeah."

"Of course, that's all anyone at Lloyd's is talking about." He paused, as he made the mental connection. "Don't tell me that's your client?"

"Yup," Sarah replied wryly. "We placed the coverage on the rig – all of it. The phone's been ringing off the hook." She leaned her left elbow on the table and put her face in her hand. If she looked half as exhausted as she felt, David and Gus were right to be concerned. She felt David wrap his arm around her shoulders, and she unconsciously leaned against him, grateful for the warm solidity of his body.

Gus reappeared and set two pint glasses down on the table in front of them. "It'll be a few minutes on the fish," he remarked. "I've had the cook whip up a fresh batch fer ya."

"You didn't have to do that, Gus," Sarah protested weakly.

"Now, now," Gus replied, "dinna ya fret, lass. Ya jest relax and let me worry about the food."

Sarah gave a short laugh as Gus left the table. "Good old Gus," she said, shaking her head affectionately.

"He obviously cares for you a great deal," David commented.

"He's a good friend," Sarah replied, reaching for her glass and taking a long draught. "Don't be so jealous."

"Who said I was jealous?" David asked, affronted.

Sarah grinned. "Gotcha."

David gave a bark of laughter. "I suppose I deserved that after teasing you at the theater," he admitted.

"I told you it wasn't over," Sarah replied, giving him a sidelong glance.

Before he could reply, something over Sarah's shoulder caught his eye, and his demeanor changed abruptly. "It seems we've been spotted," he said in a low voice.

Sarah frowned. "What?"

"There is a man heading in our direction who looks like he wishes to speak with you."

Sarah turned and saw Bryan making his way across the room towards them. "Oh, no," she groaned.

"I take it that this is your boss," David said.

"Yeah."

"And this is the first time he has seen us together."

"Yeah."

"Do you wish me to leave?"

Sarah turned and gave him a rueful look. "No," she said, "he's got to find out sometime. Now's as good a time as any, I suppose." She took a gulp of her drink and turned to face the approaching Bryan.

"Sarah," Bryan called out, "I thought you'd gone home ages ago."

"Unfortunately, not," she replied. "I only left the office fifteen minutes ago."

She became acutely aware that David still had his arm around her shoulders protectively. _Better get this over with and face the consequences_ , she thought.

"Um, Mr. Nasmith," she continued, "I don't think you've met David Jones-King from the Highclere Syndicate. David, this is my boss, Bryan Nasmith."

Bryan's eyes traveled past Sarah to David as he took in the familiar way in which they were sitting. David removed his arm from around Sarah and stood to shake Bryan's hand.

"How do you do?" David asked conversationally. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person at last."

"Likewise," Bryan said uncertainly, shaking David's outstretched hand. "I hadn't realized that you and Sarah…knew each other quite so well."

"Not that well," Sarah interjected. Bryan raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "We're getting there," she added nervously.

"Yes, Miss Williams has been taking good care of me," David added easily. "She's an exceptional broker."

"That she is," Bryan agreed. "She's the best on my team."

Sarah felt her cheeks flush. She'd never heard Bryan sing her praises to anyone else before.

"We were just sitting down to a late supper," David continued, resuming his seat. "Would you care to join us?"

Bryan hesitated. "No," he said after a moment, "I think not. I better head home. I'll see you tomorrow, Sarah. David, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," David responded.

"Good night," Sarah said.

She watched Bryan's retreating form until he had left the pub and then put her head in her hands with a groan.

"Well, that could have gone worse," David commented.

Sarah looked up. "How?"

"He could have challenged me to a duel."

Sarah couldn't keep back her snort of laughter. "Why would he do that?"

"For your affections."

Sarah stared at him. "Bryan doesn't see me like that!"

"Doesn't he?"

"No! He's married. With two kids."

"And he regards you very highly."

"He's my boss, and I'm a hard worker."

David gave a noncommittal shrug. "Still," he said.

"David, if you're going to get this jealous every time another man so much as looks at me, we're not going to get anywhere. We've only gone out once. Don't be so possessive."

"I'm not being possessive!"

"Feels like it to me."

David sighed and gathered himself. "Perhaps you're right," he said at last. "It's been a long time since I've been in a serious relationship. It seems I'm out of practice."

"Since when are we in a serious relationship?"

"I'm hoping." He winked at her, then took a long drink from his glass.

"Are you, now?"

"Yes, and by your reaction on Sunday, I'd say you share my enthusiasm."

"Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren't you? One kiss does not a relationship make."

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side, then whispered in her ear, "Then, how many kisses does make a relationship?" He placed a slow, gentle kiss on the side of her face, just in front of her ear.

Sarah felt a shiver run through her. "Stop it."

"Why?" he asked, kissing her temple.

"We're in public."

"So?" He began to nibble on her ear.

"David! Behave yourself." She elbowed him in the ribs and glanced around guiltily. "Do you really want all of our colleagues to see us necking?"

David reluctantly drew away from her, but did not remove his arm. "Pity."

Sarah shot him a look. "It may not matter to you," she said, "but it does to me. It's hard enough as a woman to make it in our profession. Please don't make it harder for me."

He regarded her soberly. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Apparently not."

David sighed and rested his forehead against the side of her head. "My apologies. I will endeavor not to make things difficult for you."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

"But, I _am_ still hoping we can have a relationship."

Sarah laughed wryly. "Yeah, me too," she admitted, reaching for her drink.

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I told you I want to see where this goes. That hasn't changed just because you're a bit on the possessive side and think my boss is hitting on me."

"I am not possessive."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

Gus arrived at their table holding two plates heaped high with breaded, fried fish and golden chips. He set the food in front of them, then turned to grab a bottle of malt vinegar from a nearby table. "Anything else I can getcha?" he asked.

"I don't think so, Gus," Sarah replied, eyeing her plate hungrily. "This looks delicious."

"Right, then. I'll be in the back if ya need me."

Sarah liberally doused her food with vinegar and salt and began to eat. The fish was crispy on the outside and delicately flaky on the inside – perfection. It was some minutes before she felt satisfied enough to resume their conversation. She took a long drink of her shandy and sat back with a contented sigh. "I needed that."

"So it would seem," David remarked.

"Don't look at me like that. Women get ravenously hungry, too."

"I don't doubt it."

"Trust me, David. The last thing you want to see is me with low blood sugar."

"I think I just did."

She gave am embarrassed laugh. "Yeah. You did."

David draped his arm around her shoulders again. "So, tell me, would you like to do something this weekend?"

"If tomorrow and Friday are as bad as today was, I doubt I'll have the energy to go anywhere."

"What if we stayed in?"

"At your place?"

"Yes."

"I think I'd like that."

"So would I." He cocked a suggestive eyebrow, and Sarah felt herself begin to blush. "By the way," he continued, "I have an artist friend who is doing a show on Saturday just around the corner from my flat. What do you say we put in an appearance and then just 'hang out' at home for the rest of the day?"

"Do people our age hang out?"

"I don't see why not. I would think people 'our age' can do as they please."

Sarah laughed. "Sounds like a plan." She finished her drink and set the glass back on the table. "What kind of show is it?"

"Just a small one. Rene owns his own gallery and is showcasing some of his latest work."

"What kind of art are we talking about?"

"Paintings. Mostly oils, but he's done a few watercolors, as well. Rene has a flair for the whimsical and usually focuses on subjects that have an element of the fantastical about them."

"That sounds interesting."

"It is," David agreed. "He's also very good. I think you'll enjoy it. And, before you can ask me what you should wear," he grinned, "we are going to an art gallery in Soho. Wear whatever you like."

"What are you wearing?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead. Jeans, most likely."

"You actually own jeans?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"I've only ever seen you in three-piece suits."

"I'm hardly going to relax at home in a three-piece suit."

Sarah pictured David lounging on his leather sofa in a suit and tie and chuckled.

"What?"

"That would actually be kind of funny. David Jones-King at home. I can see the photo spread in the _Daily Mail_ now: 'The acclaimed Lloyd's underwriter says he feels most relaxed when he's dressed to the nines.'"

David frowned. "Do I really come across as that stuffy?"

"You're very proper," she said, tapping him on the nose with her index finger. "Most of the time. But 'stuffy' isn't a word I would use to describe you."

"When am I not proper?"

"When you're trying to make out with me in a pub."

David looked slightly abashed. "Can I help it that you are such an appealing woman, or that I find your company so delightful?"

Sarah cocked her head at him. "Do you really find my company 'delightful'?"

"Of course. We wouldn't be sitting here if I didn't."

"Flatterer."

"You asked."

"I suppose I did." She stifled a yawn and glanced at her watch. "I hate to break this up, but I really should get going. I have to be in early again tomorrow."

They rose from the table, and David paid the bill, leaving Gus a generous tip. When they were outside, David said, "Let me call you a cab. I don't think it is wise for you to take the underground when you're so tired."

Sarah smiled at his concern. "All right," she agreed, "I'll let you pamper me. But just this once."

David gave her a lopsided grin. "What if I like pampering you?"

"Then, I'm sure you'll find many more opportunities to do so."

They were passing an alley next to the pub. Before Sarah could react, David darted into the opening and pulled her in after him. She opened her mouth to protest and met David's warm lips as he drew her close for a kiss. She gasped as she felt his tongue explore her mouth and brought hers to meet him. David groaned and pulled her tighter to him. The world seemed to vanish around them, and Sarah's whole being focused on David. She felt his warm, solid body against hers and pulled him closer, not wanting him to ever move away. Their kiss was long and unhurried, having an almost spiritual quality to it. Sarah felt her knees start to give out from under her. David finally slowed his movements and gently drew away, but did not release her. "I've been wanting to do that all evening," he murmured, gazing into her eyes.

"I think I'd've been disappointed if you hadn't," Sarah breathed.

David laughed. "Vixen," he said.

"Don Juan."

"I shall take that as a compliment."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Shut up and kiss me," she said.

David chuckled and began to lean in again.

They were interrupted by a loud bang. Looking up, they saw Gus exiting the side door of the pub, dragging a large bag of trash after him. He made his way over to a rubbish bin and heaved the bag into it. Turning, he finally saw them standing there, their arms wrapped around each other. "Sorry to disturb ya," he said, giving them a grin and a salute before going back inside and pulling the door closed behind him.

Sarah laughed. She couldn't help it. The situation was so ludicrous.

David frowned. "I hardly think this is funny," he said reproachfully.

That only made her laugh harder. She buried her face in David's shoulder and continued to laugh. She couldn't stop. After a moment, she felt him begin to chuckle in response. Soon, they were both laughing out loud and hugging each other, their breath steaming and mingling in the cold air around them.

"I really should go," Sarah said at last, wiping her eyes. "Call me a cab."

"In a moment," David replied, and gave her one last, lingering kiss. Drawing away, he whispered in her ear, "Something to remember me by." Then, he turned and led her back out of the alley.

~o*0*o~

The next morning found Sarah standing outside of Bryan's office, gathering her courage. She had to tell him something about David, but she wasn't sure exactly what to say. If Bryan hadn't stumbled upon them the night before, she would have waited until she was more sure of the direction of their nascent relationship. As it was, Bryan had forced her hand by confronting them in the pub. She felt the need to set him straight before he could jump to any false conclusions. But what should she tell him?

Drawing a deep breath, she knocked on the open office door.

"Come in!" Bryan called without looking up.

Sarah nervously stepped over the threshold. "Morning, Mr. Nasmith," she said.

"Ah, Sarah. Good morning," Bryan replied raising his eyes from the document on his desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have a minute?" Sarah asked. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

"By all means," he replied. "Have a seat."

Sarah sat on the edge of the chair Bryan had indicated and knotted her hands in her lap.

"Now," Bryan began, "what's on your mind?"

"Well," Sarah said tentatively, "it's about David, David Jones-King."

"Ah," Bryan said as he sat back in his chair. "I thought it might be."

"Yeah, um…we're, we're…seeing each other," she blurted out. "It's not serious, not yet – we've only just started dating. And I was going to tell you, honestly." She realized she was rambling. "I wasn't trying to keep it from you. It's just that…well…like I said, we only just started dating, and I'm not really sure how serious it is yet. I just don't want to cause any problems with Highclere." She paused for breath.

Bryan held up a hand to stop her. "It's okay, Sarah," he said with a comforting smile.

Sarah stared at him dumbly. "It is?"

"Of course. You know we don't have rules about not dating underwriters; this isn't the Dark Ages. And I wasn't exaggerating when I told Jones-King that you were the best broker on my team," he continued. "I know you would never be anything but professional, and I trust that you would come to me if you ever felt your relationship posed a conflict of interest."

"And, if I felt that it did," Sarah said, "what would happen?"

"I would assign whatever account you were both working on to another broker," Bryan replied with a shrug. "Problem solved."

"Oh," was all Sarah could think to say. "So, when you saw us together last night…" her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"I'll be honest," Bryan told her, "I was a bit surprised, but I can't say it was a complete shock. After all, it's not every underwriter who sends his broker roses the day after a big business dinner."

Sarah felt herself flush.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Bryan continued. "You're a very attractive young woman, and he seems like a decent fellow. See that he treats you right," he added with mock seriousness.

Sarah smiled for the first time since entering Bryan's office. "I will," she said. "Thank you, Mr. Nasmith." She took a deep breath. "I've never dated anyone in the industry before, so this is all new territory for me."

"You're quite welcome," Bryan replied easily. "You know you can come to me anytime, if you need guidance."

"Thank you. I will."

"Now, then," Bryan continued brusquely, "what's the latest on Staffordshire?"

* * *

A/N

So, this turned out to be more of a transitional chapter. I had originally planned for this chapter and the following to one to be one, longer chapter, but this ended up so long that I decided to break it in half. I sometimes can't get Sarah and David to shut up and, well, there was this convenient alley next to the pub that looked lonely…

I belatedly realized that, if you take a close look at the 2017 calendar (because you all have nothing better to do with your time, right?), this story actually opens on January 9. David and Sarah meet the next day, on January 10, which, as we all know, was the one-year anniversary of David Bowie's death (*sob*). I did not plan that. It just happened. I needed for them to meet on a Tuesday (January 10), run into each other at the pub that Friday (January 13), meet at Lloyd's the next Monday (January 16), and go to see the final performance of Lazarus on the following Sunday (January 22). Again, serendipity. (Or creepy, I can't decide which.)

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, faved, and/or followed, especially everyone who reviewed Chapter 4. LovelyAmberLight and Sazzle76, you guys are awesome! It's amazing how much good reviews inspire me to keep writing and encourage me to keep the bar high.

My apologies for being so far behind in answering reviews. I do plan to do so at some point.


	6. Chapter 6 - A Flair for the Whimsical

Standard Fanfiction Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations created and dramatized by Terry Jones, Brian Froud, Jim Henson, David Bowie, et al. I do not own Labyrinth, nor am I making any money from it.

* * *

 **Chapter 6: A Flair for the Whimsical**

Thursday and Friday turned out to be carbon copies of Wednesday. Information on the rig collapse was still sparse, and Staffordshire was still frantically trying to contain the spilled oil. Her Majesty's Coast Guard and several international organizations were coordinating in the clean-up efforts. Sarah continued to answer phone calls and emails from frantic underwriters and agents, all of whom desperately wanted to know if they would have to pay a claim.

By Friday night, Sarah was too exhausted to think. She turned down David's invitation to drinks at the pub, but promised to meet him at his flat the next day. David insisted that she take her time and sleep in as late as she liked. "Rene's an artist," he explained over the phone. "He won't care what time we arrive."

Saturday morning, Sarah slept until ten, then leisurely showered and made herself a cup of tea before dressing comfortably and heading out to meet David. Not sure what David had in mind for "hanging out," she had packed a few items in a backpack, including a couple books. She took the underground to Piccadilly Circus and walked several blocks north into Soho, enjoying the vibrant atmosphere and the opportunity to stretch her legs after a week spent chained to her desk.

When she arrived at David's flat, he opened the door wearing slim-cut, dark blue jeans, black knee-high boots, and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar open, exposing the pale base of his throat. Sarah had never seen him so casual. If anything, he looked better this way than he did in his tailored suits, which hardly seemed possible. He smiled at seeing her and stepped back to let her in. She stepped inside, looking him up and down. Then, she began to laugh. David shut the door and turned to face her, frowning slightly.

"And just what is it about my appearance that amuses you so much?" he asked.

Sarah removed her scarf and unzipped her black leather jacket, opening it to show him what she was wearing: a cream-colored cashmere sweater over dark blue skinny jeans and black suede, over-the-knee boots with chunky heels. David stared at her, not comprehending.

"We match," Sarah stated.

David looked her up and down, then glanced down at his own clothing. He chuckled. "You're right. We do match."

Sarah grinned broadly. "We couldn't have done better if we'd planned this."

"I do believe you're right."

Sarah set her backpack down on the floor next to the hat stand. "We should probably head to the gallery. I have a feeling that, once we get settled, we won't want to go back out."

"Indeed," David answered, "but, first things first."

"First things – ?" She was stopped by David, who gently, but firmly pulled her to him and kissed her. Without breaking the kiss, he then slowly walked her backwards until he had her pinned against the wall. He placed one hand on the wall next to her head and caressed her face with the other. Sarah wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer.

When they paused for breath, Sarah teased, "A little warning next time?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You know I don't."

David smirked at that, then leaned in to kiss her again. Then, he reluctantly broke the kiss and whispered in her ear, "As pleasant as this is, I do believe you are right."

"Right?" Sarah breathed. "Right about what?"

"If we do not go to the gallery now, we may not end up there at all today."

Sarah giggled. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

David pulled back slightly and looked at her, brushing a strand of her long, dark hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "Spending time with you is never a bad thing, Sarah mine," he said quietly, meeting her eyes.

Sarah just stared at him, she couldn't think of a thing to say.

It was David who broke the spell. "Come," he said, giving her a final kiss on the lips, "we can pick this up again later."

"I'll hold you to that," Sarah retorted.

David just grinned and rolled down his sleeves before pulling on a black, leather jacket that closely resembled the one Sarah was wearing.

"Oh, now we _definitely_ match," she laughed.

David smiled and held the door open for her. "After you."

~o*0*o~

A short walk brought them to the front of a brightly-lit shop whose large front windows held various pieces of artwork, ranging from the traditional to the avant-garde. They entered the gallery and were immediately hailed by an enthusiastic Frenchman.

"David!" he practically shouted as he made his way across the room, jostling between his other patrons to greet them. "So glad you could come, _mon ami_." He threw his arms around David and unabashedly kissed him on both cheeks before turning to Sarah. "And who is this exquisite creature that you have brought with you?"

"Rene, this is Miss Sarah Williams," David said. "Sarah, may I introduce Monsieur Rene Flaubert."

" _Enchant_ _é_ _e, mademoiselle_ ," Rene murmured, bending over Sarah's hand like it was a rare jewel.

"How do you do?" Sarah asked.

"Ah, much better now that I have made _your_ acquaintance," Rene replied with a winning smile.

Sarah blushed. " _Merci, monsieur_."

" _Rene_ ," David began. His voice had a slight edge to it.

"Yes, yes," Rene sighed. "The lady is with you, my dear David. _Quel dommage_." He dropped Sarah's hand with a great show of reluctance.

Sarah grinned. "I keep telling him not to be so possessive," she confided to Rene in a stage whisper.

David sighed. "I am not – "

Rene raised his hand and place a finger on David's lips, giving him a reproachful look before turning back to Sarah.

"Believe me, _mademoiselle_ , were you here with me, I can assure you that I, too, would be possessive."

Sarah blushed deeper.

"But, _ma foi_ , you have come to see the paintings, yes?"

"Yes," David agreed firmly, placing a hand on the small of Sarah's back.

"Then, this way. Come." Rene waved an energetic hand and turned to lead them further into the gallery.

Sarah turned to David. "Has he lived in London long?"

"Thirty years or more."

Sarah stared at him.

"Oh, don't be fooled," David said with a smile, "Rene speaks English just as well as you or I do – better perhaps. He puts on this 'exotic foreigner' act for the American tourists. I think he's read one too many Agatha Christie books."

"Does he think I'm a tourist?"

"You? No, for you he's just showing off. And trying to make me jealous."

"I'd say it's working," Sarah said slyly. She winked at him before turning to follow the boisterous artist. They found Rene waiting impatiently in front of a large canvas depicting a field of wildflowers.

"Oh, how lovely," Sarah said.

"Lovely?" Rene sniffed. "It is more than lovely. Do you not see them?"

Sarah looked at the painting in puzzlement. "See what?" she asked.

"Look closer," David murmured in her ear.

Sarah stepped closer to the painting and bent forward to peer intently at the blowing grass. Suddenly, she saw eyes peering out from between the green blades. Lots of eyes. Startled, she stumbled backwards into David, who wrapped his arms securely around her so she wouldn't fall.

"Ah," Rene purred, "so, you do see them."

Sarah was staring at the painting. "What are they?"

"See for yourself." Rene gestured towards the canvas.

David released his hold on her, and Sarah slowly approached the painting again. She forced herself to look calmly at the tiny eyes that stared out at her. "Why, they're fairies," she breathed.

Now that she could see them, she realized that the field of flowers was full of dozens of fairies hiding between the blades of grass or sheltering beneath the blossoms. They all had mischievous smiles on their faces, as if they would reach out of the canvas and draw her into it to join them. "How sweet," she murmured. She recalled David's description of Rene, and figured that this was what he had meant by "a flair for the whimsical." If populating an innocent-looking field of wildflowers with impish fairies wasn't whimsical, then she didn't know what was.

"And, now, this one," Rene said, rousing Sarah from her reverie and indicating another painting.

This piece was a night scene that depicted a moonlit clearing in a dense wood. At first, the clearing appeared to be empty, but then Sarah became aware that there were eyes in this painting, as well. Looking closely, she saw that they belonged to a magnificent stag, whose proud antlers, blending with the branches around them, were silvered by the moonlight that streamed through the trees above.

It was the same with every one of Rene's paintings. At first glance, they appeared to be ordinary, but beautiful landscapes. However, now that Sarah knew what to look for, she quickly found all sorts of fantastical creatures hidden in plain sight. There were gnomes crouching beneath giant mushrooms, elves lazing on tree limbs, goblins hiding amongst fallen leaves, trolls that looked like rocks, and even a dragon lurking in the mouth of a cave. Rene's talent lay in his ability to make these creatures part of the landscape itself. They truly looked as though they belonged there.

As Sarah moved from one magnificent picture to the next, a thought struck her. Turning to David, she asked, "The picture on your wall, did Rene paint that?"

"Why, yes, he did."

"What's hiding in that one?"

"Take a look when we get back," he answered with a grin.

They lingered at the gallery for a while longer, sipping champagne and admiring Rene's art. Finally, David leaned close and whispered to her, "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Me too," Sarah responded.

They set down their empty glasses on a nearby table and made their way toward Rene to make their farewells. Rene once again kissed David on both cheeks and Sarah on the hand. As he was walking them towards the door, his arm in Sarah's, he said, " _Mademoiselle_ , would you do me a kindness?"

"That depends on what it is."

"It is a small thing, a trifle," the artist responded with a wave of his free hand. "I would very much like to paint you."

"Paint me?"

"Rene," David began.

"And you, also, my dear David," Rene added, turning to him.

"You want to paint both of us?" Sarah asked, incredulous.

" _Mai oui_ ," Rene responded. "Is that such a surprising thing?"

"Well, yeah," Sarah said. "No one's ever asked to paint my picture before."

Rene snorted. "Philistines," he said, apparently referring to anyone Sarah had ever met.

"What would I have to do?" she asked.

"It is nothing," Rene said. "Just come here and sit for me for a few hours while I sketch you. I will do the painting afterwards. I will, of course, compensate you for your time, and I can promise to keep you well-supplied with tea and profiteroles while you are here."

Sarah's eyes lit up. "Oh, I love profiteroles," she said.

" _C'est bon_! Then it is agreed," Rene said joyously, clapping his hands. "You will return next Saturday, both of you, and sit for me. It is decided."

"Rene," David said again.

"Oh, come on, David." Sarah gave him a beseeching look. "It'll be fun."

"You really want to?"

"Yes."

He regarded her for a moment, and his expression softened. "Oh, all right," he said finally, "since it means so much to you."

"Ah, the dear David cannot refuse the request of his lady-love, _n'est-ce pas_?"

David shot him a warning look, while Sarah tried to hide her giggles behind her hand.

"Come on, David," she said, taking his hand. "You promised me an afternoon in, remember?"

He turned to her. "So I did." To Rene he said, " _Au revoir, mon ami_."

" _Au revoir, mes amis._ "

~o*0*o~

When they arrived back at David's flat, Sarah entered the living room and made her way over to the painting hanging over the couch. She stared at it for a moment, lost in thought. David came and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Do you see it?" he murmured in her ear.

At first, she didn't. There were no eyes in the grass of the field or peering out from the distant trees. Then, she turned her attention to the oak tree that stood in the foreground, its trunk forming the righthand edge of the painting. Two knotholes in the rough bark resolved themselves into a pair of round, luminous eyes. Then, she saw the rest of it. What she had at first glance taken to be simply a hollow in the tree trunk revealed itself to be the body of an owl. It had its back to the viewer and was glaring over its shoulder, as though it had been disturbed and was being intruded upon.

"Oh," Sarah breathed.

She felt David smile against the side of her face. "You see it now, don't you?" he said softly.

"Yes," she whispered. "It's an owl. In the tree trunk."

"Yes, it is."

"Did you commission it from Rene?"

"No," he responded. "I saw it in the gallery one day and felt…drawn to it, somehow. I've always liked owls."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "They're symbols of wisdom."

"They're also said to be harbingers of death," Sarah said with a shudder.

"But is that not in itself a kind of wisdom?"

"How?"

"Would you live your life any differently if you knew when you would die?"

Sarah thought about it. "Yeah, I guess I would."

"What would you do differently?" His voice was curious.

"Probably work less and spend more time with the people I loved."

"Does that include me?"

"Getting a little ahead of yourself, don't you think?" she asked, giving him a sidelong glance over her shoulder.

David chuckled. She like feeling the vibrations of his laughter and leaned back against him. "Perhaps," he admitted. "But only a little."

"You're very sure of yourself."

"With good reason."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because of how you much you like it when I do this." He began to gently nibble on her ear. Sarah caught her breath and leaned further back against him as he dipped his head lower and nipped and kissed the side of her neck. Soon, her head was lolling back on his shoulder and she found it hard to stand on her own.

"David," she breathed.

"Hmm?" He did not pause in his ministrations.

"I'm going to fall."

"No, you're not," he breathed in her ear. "I won't let you."

"David." Just as she felt her knees give out completely, David swept her up in his arms and sat down on the couch with her in his lap in one smooth movement.

"See?" he grinned up at her. "Told you I wouldn't let you fall."

"My knight in shining armor," Sarah teased, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Does that earn me a reward?" His arms tightened around her waist.

"Definitely." She leaned forward and kissed him. It was a new experience for her to have to lean down to kiss him, and she liked the unusual sensation. After a moment, David broke the kiss, and Sarah discovered another benefit of sitting on his lap. He began to kiss the underside of her jaw and the sensitive skin of her throat. Sarah arched her back and leaned closer to him. She ran her fingers through his hair and heard David make a satisfied noise in his throat. Then, she felt his warm hands slide gently under her sweater and begin to caress her back. She drew in her breath. "Easy."

David chuckled and raised his head to meet her eyes. "Tell me when to stop, and I will."

"Just leave my underwear on, all right?"

He raised an eyebrow and slowly slid his hands further up her back until he was cupping her shoulder blades in his palms. His touch sent pleasant tingling sensations running along her skin, making her shudder. He pulled her closer and nipped gently at the base of her neck. Sarah gasped. He then trailed kisses along her collar bone, moving the fabric of her sweater out of the way with his teeth. She stifled a moan.

"You like?" he breathed, pausing with his lips against her shoulder.

"Yes."

"Shall I continue?"

Sarah swallowed. "Yes."

He began moving his lips back along her shoulder towards her neck, and Sarah could have sworn she felt his tongue trailing wetly along her skin. She shivered.

Just then, she heard a faint sizzling noise and opened her eyes to darkness. "David?"

"Hmm?"

"The lights just went out."

He raised his head and looked past her shoulder. "Shit." He lifted her off his lap and set her down on the couch next to him, then stood up and made his way out into the hallway.

"David?" Sarah called after him as she straightened her sweater.

"Just a minute," his muffled voice came from the rear of the flat. "I'm getting a torch."

The waning sunlight filtering through the windows, mixed with the dull glow from the neon signs outside, gave just enough illumination for Sarah to pick her way across the room and into the hallway. She heard David cursing and muttering to himself. A ray of light from his torch pierced the darkened hallway and made her blink. "What's the big deal?" she asked. "It's not like we need light for what we were doing."

David let out a frustrated sigh as he made his way towards her. "You're right," he replied. Some of his irritation appeared to ease as he slid his free arm around her waist and kissed her on the forehead. "But I find the situation incredibly frustrating. This is the second time this week that the electricity has gone out. I'm going to have to have a word with the power company – again."

"Can't your landlord do that?"

David chuckled. "You're looking at my landlord."

"What?"

"I own this building."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"That must have been expensive."

"I inherited it."

"And the bookshop downstairs?"

"The owner is my tenant."

"Wow. Who lives upstairs?"

"No one, at present. The second floor is unoccupied. I use it for storage."

He took her hand and led her further down the hallway. "Come into the kitchen. I have some candles in a cupboard." He began to rummage around in the cabinets and finally emerged with several thick pillar candles, which he set on a tea tray. He lit the candles with a match and handed the tray to Sarah. "Take these into the front room, would you?"

"Sure." Sarah took the tray from him and made her way carefully back into the darkened room. She set the tray down on the coffee table and paused to study the effect. The dancing candle flames threw fantastic shadows on the walls and caused the owl in the painting to appear alive.

David reentered the room carrying several blankets.

"What are those for?" Sarah asked.

"With the power off, the heat can't come on, and the temperature is dropping outside," he explained. "It's going to get cold in here very soon." He shook out one of the blankets and draped it around Sarah. "There," he said, drawing the ends of the blanket snuggly together in front of her. "That should keep you warm."

Sarah leaned close to him. "Wouldn't you like to keep me warm yourself?" she asked, batting her eyes playfully.

David's grip on her tightened. "Minx," he said, "of course I would."

"They, why don't you?"

"I have to go down to the basement to make sure that the problem really is the fault of the power company and not simply a tripped breaker. This is a very old building, and the wiring isn't always the most reliable." He turned and picked up his torch. "However," he said cocking an eyebrow at her, "I fully intend to keep you as warm as you like once I've made my inspection. Will you be all right here by yourself for a few minutes?"

"I don't see why not."

"Good." He pulled her close once again and gave her a slow, lingering kiss. "There, that should keep you warm while I'm gone," he teased. "I won't be a minute." He turned and left the room, and Sarah heard the sound of the flat door closing behind him.

She looked around the room, trying to decide on the best place to wait for David. Her eyes fell on his reading chair. "Perfect," she said aloud. She took one of the pillar candles from the tray and put in on the small table beside the chair. Then, making sure the blanket was secure around her, she sat down, draping both of her legs over one arm of the chair and resting her head against the opposite wing. It certainly was comfortable; she could see why David liked it so much.

She sat there watching the candle flame for several minutes. Gradually, her eyelids began to droop and her head to roll farther back against the side of the chair. Soon, she was fast asleep.

~o*0*o~

David returned a short time later, calling her name. "Sarah?" When he received no response, he hastened into the front room, the torch beam swinging wildly in all directions. Seeing her asleep in his favorite chair, he relaxed and switched off the torch. He seated himself on the ottoman, put his elbow on his knee, and rested his chin in his hand. He watched the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing and traced the gentle curves of her features with his eyes, her expression softened in sleep and her face caressed by the golden glow of the candlelight. He didn't know how long he sat there, watching her sleep, feeling an inexplicable joy in just being close to her.

After a while, Sarah stirred and awoke. Seeing David sitting there, she said sleepily, "Hey, you."

He grinned. "Hey, yourself."

"I must have been more tired than I thought."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You've had a rough week."

"Mmmm," Sarah replied, stretching. "Were you sitting there long?"

"A few minutes," he admitted.

"Why?"

"You looked too pretty to disturb."

Sarah smiled. "That's sweet. Did you find out what was wrong?" she yawned. "Was it a breaker?"

David sighed, and rubbed his face, his earlier annoyance returning. "No, it was not a breaker. That would have been too easy. It must be an interruption in the supply. I've put a call in to the power company, but they can't send anyone out until tomorrow morning."

"You said this is an old building. Does this happen often?"

"About once a month," David replied, "and, just my luck, it has to happen when you're here. I'm not exactly presenting myself in the best light, am I?"

"I don't know about that," Sarah said, tilting her head. She watched the light from the dancing flames flicker over his face, throwing his lean features into sharp relief and giving him an almost otherworldly appearance. "I'd say you look pretty good by candlelight."

David laughed. "As do you, Sarah mine." He stood and scooped her bodily from the chair, carrying her across the room.

"What are you doing?"

"Picking up where we left off before we were so rudely interrupted."

He sat back down on the couch with Sarah once again on his lap. She shifted to wrap her arms around him, and the blanket fell from her shoulders. She shivered at the chill air of the room. "Wow, you weren't kidding when you said it would get cold in here."

"Allow me to warm you up," David began, pulling her close to him.

"Actually," Sarah said slowly, "I have a better idea."

David cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Sarah hesitated and bit her lip, studying his face. "Well," she began, "why don't you pack a bag and come stay at my place tonight?"

David's eyebrows shot up, and he stared at her. "Sarah," he said, "are you asking me to spend the night with you?"

Sarah blushed. "I didn't mean like that," she said, looking away from him and lowering her head.

David placed a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. "Don't be embarrassed, Sarah," he said mildly. "Tell me what you are offering."

Sarah took a deep breath. "I'm offering to let you sleep on my couch tonight," she said, "because you don't have any heat, and I don't want you to freeze to death in here."

"Surely, your bed would be warmer than your couch," he mused, giving her a teasing look.

"Don't push it. You can sleep on my couch, where it's warm, or you can sleep here, where it's cold."

"Either way, it seems I'll be sleeping alone."

Sarah shrugged. "It's up to you. Take it or leave it."

"I believe I'll take it," he said with a grin. "You in the next room is preferable to you across town." He began to nibble on her neck. "Although," he added between kisses, "you and I in the same bed would be far preferable to either."

A shudder ran through Sarah's body. She realized that his hands had found their way under her sweater again and resumed their earlier questing. She swallowed. "Not tonight."

"Still too soon?"

"Yeah."

"Pity." He pulled back and gave her a smoldering look. "I can wait. If I must."

Sarah tore her eyes away from his with difficulty and glanced down, taking a deep breath. "Look," she said closing her eyes briefly, "I'm not trying to be difficult." She opened her eyes, but didn't look at him. "It's just that, for me, sex isn't just some nice physical thing I do with somebody I like. It's a big thing for me. I want it to mean something. If and when we do sleep together, I want it to be because we both want to and are comfortable with it." She lifted her head and regarded his hair, brushing it gently back from his forehead with her fingers. "I want to know it has a significance beyond just the physical pleasure for both of us." She paused and looked him in the eye then. "Does that work for you?"

He studied her face for a moment. "Yes," he said finally, "that works for me. I, too, want intimacy between us to mean something. To be something special. I've wasted far too much time having casual sex with women I really didn't care for all that much."

"So, I'm what? Something different?"

He grinned. "Yes, Sarah mine, you're something different."

"How so?"

"Well, strange as it may seem," he gave her a mocking look, "I find that I truly want to get to know you."

"And not just get into my pants?"

"Oh, I definitely want to get into your pants."

"Cad."

"But that's not all I want."

"Really? And what do you want?"

"I want _you_ , Sarah mine. All of you. I do want your body," he gave her a playful squeeze, "but I also I want your heart, as well as your mind. I want to be the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning, and the last thing you think of before you fall asleep at night. I want to be with you every waking moment of every day. And I want to make passionate love to you in my bed every night."

Sarah stared at him slack-jawed. "Wow."

"Too much?"

"Just a bit. No one's ever said anything like that to me before."

"So, that makes me different, too?"

"You bet it does." She paused and gave him a suspicious look. "Did you really mean all of that?"

He glanced up at the ceiling and rocked his head side-to-side, considering. "Most of it."

Sarah laughed. She put her hand on the side of his face and gave it a slight push. "Cad."

He grabbed her wrist and, giving her a penetrating look, brought it to his lips and gently kissed the sensitive inside of it over her pulse. "Oh, yes," he said softly, "I am definitely a cad."

Sarah found it hard to breathe.

Not taking his eyes from hers, he asked quietly, "Are you sure you want me to stay in your flat tonight, Sarah?"

Sarah swallowed and nodded. "On the couch," she croaked.

David grinned. "Of course," he said. "On the couch."

* * *

A/N

My apologies for the delay in posting. This chapter gave me some problems, but I think I finally got them all sorted. As usual, many, many thanks to my DH Sea Beam for reading (and rereading) my drafts, engaging in lengthy discussions, and offering constructive criticism.

I think I'm up-to-date on answering reviews. Thank you all so much for your kind words. I'm so glad you all seem to be enjoying this story so much. I am blown away that 58 people are now following this story and want to know what happens next.

So, what do you guys think of the pacing? This is turning out to be a bit slower of a slow burn than I had originally intended, but I need to lay certain groundwork before I introduce later elements. I'm going for realism here.

And I do, in point of fact, own every item of clothing Sarah is wearing in this chapter. I love those boots.


	7. Chapter 7 - Valentine's Evening

Standard Fanfiction Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations created and dramatized by Terry Jones, Brian Froud, Jim Henson, David Bowie, et al. I do not own Labyrinth, nor am I making any money from it.

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Valentine's Evening**

Much to Sarah's surprise – and relief – David was as good as his word. He did sleep on the couch. Alone. But not before doing his best to entice Sarah to join him.

They stopped to pick up takeaway on the way back to Sarah's flat and ate while watching a movie. After the food had been consumed and the empty containers chucked in the bin, David kicked off his boots and stretched out full-length on the couch. He propped himself up on one elbow and regarded Sarah with a raised eyebrow. "Care to join me?"

"Sure." She took off her boots, as well, and laid down next to him. The couch was just wide enough to accommodate both of them if they lay on their sides. He slid the arm he had been leaning on under her neck and wrapped his forearm across her upper chest, gripping her shoulder with his hand. He then wrapped his free an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, molding her body to his and spooning behind her. Sarah found herself held fast against him in strong arms and could feel his heart beating against her back. She found the sensation soothing and relaxed against him.

"That's more like it," David purred in her ear as he began to nibble on her neck.

The hand encircling her waist slid under her sweater, and Sarah felt his fingers begin to rub her stomach. She sighed with contentment. David continued to nibble on her ear and neck as he allowed his hand to play across her warm skin, tracing invisible patterns. He playfully ran his fingers under the edge of the waistband of her jeans, making Sarah draw in her breath. Then, his hand began to quest slowly upwards, until he had reached the lower edge of her bra. He began to trace the edge of the material and ran his fingers along the curves of the underwires. Sarah arched her back against him. Then, he experimentally snaked a finger under the edge of one cup. Sarah grabbed his wrist before he could go any further.

"I told you to leave my underwear on," she said breathlessly.

"It is on," he replied in a low voice.

"Stop pushing me," she said, pulling his hand out from under her clothing. She wasn't sure, but she thought she felt David make a low growl of frustration. She shifted in his arms until she was facing him and hooked a leg over his so she wouldn't fall backwards off the couch. "Two hours ago, you told me you were fine with waiting," she said.

"I said I can wait _if I must_ and that I want intimacy between us to mean something."

"Well, I don't think we know each other well enough yet for sex to really mean anything."

He raised an eyebrow. "Pity."

It was Sarah's turn to growl in frustration as she pulled herself up out of his embrace. She sat down on the far end of the couch near his feet, tucking one leg under her and folding her arms across her chest. "You have got to stop sending me mixed signals," she said.

David pulled himself up into a sitting position facing her. "I wasn't aware that I was sending mixed signals," he replied with a frown.

"You said you want sex with me to mean something, but you still keep pushing and testing my boundaries. It's like you're trying to find my breaking point."

"Am I close?" he asked, raising an eyebrow tauntingly.

"I refuse to answer that question."

"Oh, interesting. Just how close am I?" He leaned forward and began to crawl towards her along the length of the couch.

"That's far enough," Sarah replied, scooching backwards until she was sitting on the arm of the couch.

"Is it?" David kept moving closer, never taking is eyes from her face.

"David!" Sarah said in a slightly panicked voice, "Stop!"

"Why?" His face was now inches from hers, and his body was looming over her. Sarah was leaning back so far that she felt like she was going to fall any second.

"Because I want you to."

David stopped moving. "Do you, Sarah?" he asked in a low, seductive voice. "Do you really want me to stop?"

Sarah felt his pale blue eyes burning into her like icy fire. She swallowed. Her heart was hammering in her ears. "Yes," she managed to say.

David regarded her for the space of several heartbeats, then leaned backwards. Sarah let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. "Thank you."

David stood from the couch, and, before Sarah could react, he grabbed both of her hands and pulled her up to face him. He quickly wrapped one arm around her waist, twined the other into her hair, and pulled her to him in a passionate kiss that made Sarah gasp. For several seconds, she was too stunned to do more than allow herself to be kissed, but then she wrapped both of her arms around his neck and pulled his head towards her, returning his kiss with a ferocity that surprised them both. Time stood still as they were both lost in their embrace.

Pulling back finally, David brought one hand up to gently push her hair back from her forehead. He let his warm hand linger on her cheek, as his eyes searched her face. "I will wait for you, if you ask it of me," he said in a hoarse voice, "but don't make me wait too long, Sarah mine. I don't know how much more of this teasing I can take."

"I'm not teasing you," Sarah replied breathlessly, still wobbly from the kiss.

"Perhaps not intentionally," he replied, "but you're sending me mixed signals, too."

"How?"

"You say you want to wait to be intimate, then you kiss me like you want to devour me whole. What am I to make of that?"

Sarah just stared at him. "I…don't know," she faltered.

He smiled ruefully. "We don't have to find all the answers tonight, precious thing," he said. "But I do think we need to figure out where this is going, and soon, or I may explode."

"You're a very…intense person, David."

He chuckled at that, the vibrations of his laughter rippling through Sarah's body, which was still tightly pressed against his own. "I suppose I can be," he conceded.

Sarah's furrowed her brow. "It scares me a bit," she admitted.

That got his attention. "I don't want you to be afraid of me, Sarah mine," he said in a soft voice, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"I'm not really _afraid_ of you," Sarah replied, "just…well…I guess 'intimidated' is the right word. I mean, you're older and more experienced and, and…" she trailed off uncertainly.

"And, what?" he prompted gently.

Sarah took a deep breath. "And I'm afraid of how easily I could give in to you, if I let myself," she said, not meeting his eyes.

"And do you think that would be such a bad thing?" he asked, putting a finger under her chin and raising her face, forcing her to look at him.

Her eyes searched his face. "I don't know," she confessed. "I don't want it to be, but I don't know you well enough yet for me to be certain."

One side of David's lips pulled up in a slight smile. "If it will reassure you, I promise not to use my age and experience to push you to do anything you are not ready to do, Sarah mine," he said.

"You would do that for me?"

His smile deepened, and he leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead. "Of course," he replied. "I'd far rather have you willing and compliant than fighting me every step of the way."

Sarah gave him a look and swatted at his arm. "Cad," she said.

"You say that so often," David said, his eyes twinkling. "Is that your term of endearment for me?"

"Don't tempt me," Sarah retorted.

"Oh, I might just," he said, now grinning broadly. "It's so much fun."

Before Sarah could huff out the stinging retort that she was forming, David again pulled her close and kissed her, but this time tenderly. Sarah groaned. Breaking the kiss, David said, "That's probably enough for one night," he said, "else I'll be trying to break down your bedroom door to join you in your warm bed."

Sarah looked shocked. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Don't tempt me," he grinned back.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'll get you some blankets," she said as she turned away from him.

~o*0*o~

The next morning, Sarah emerged from her bedroom to find David lounging on the couch, tapping on his phone and wearing only a pair of black pajama bottoms. His blonde hair was disheveled and several locks fell down over his forehead. She paused in the doorway, drinking in the sight of him and letting her eyes wander over his lithe form. At that moment, she wanted nothing so much as to straddle him and run her hands all over his bare chest and shoulders. She let her mind wonder exactly what his smooth skin would feel like, but restrained herself from investigating, figuring David would take that as more mixed signals.

"Hey, you."

He looked up and smiled at her. "Hey, yourself."

"Did you sleep well?"

"As well as could be expected, considering I was alone."

"Stop leering at me."

"But you look so delightful, with your hair all tousled."

"I'm going to take a shower and then make breakfast, okay?"

"Works for me."

Sarah retreated back down the hallway to the bathroom and started the shower. Stepping under the hot water, she began to wash her hair. After a moment, she heard the door open and close and then the sound of running water. She froze. "David?"

"Hmmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Shaving."

"I'm in the shower!"

"So you are. Carry on. It doesn't bother me."

"David! Get out!"

"There's no need to shout, pet. I can't see a thing."

" _David_! Get OUT! _NOW_!"

There was a pause. Then, she heard the quiet sound of the door closing. Careful to make sure her body was shielded, Sarah peeked out from behind the shower curtain. David was nowhere in sight. She breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the wet tiles.

What had that been all about? Clearly, he was still testing her boundaries. Why did he keep doing that? It was like everything was a game to him. That thought gave her pause. It had been like that with someone else she had once known. So much challenging and testing and teasing. She'd been far too young at the time to see what the Goblin King was really up to, but she recognized what David was doing. He was trying to get her to give in.

Or was he? There were times when he seemed to take what she said literally, especially if there was an interpretation of her words that worked in his favor. And, to be fair, she had only said that she wanted to wait to have sex. She had not barred him from using the bathroom at the same time as her or being in the same room with her when she was naked. _Say your right words_ , she thought ruefully. Who knew that lesson would have real world application? She had always heard that communication was important in a relationship; now she was finding that out firsthand. Maybe that was why he asked her so often to clarify what she meant.

Shaking her head, she finished rinsing her hair and shut off the water. As she reached for a towel, there was a knock on the door.

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to rush you, but I would very much like to take care of some rather private bodily functions."

Sarah frowned. "What?"

"To put it more indelicately, I have to pee."

"Oh, right." She hastily wrapped the towel around her hair and reached for a second one. "Just a minute. Let me dry off." She scrubbed at her limbs and torso and quickly threw her fluffy, white robe around herself. "You can come in now," she called as she tied the sash tightly.

David cautiously opened the door with his eyes closed. "Are you decent?" he asked.

Sarah couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Yes, I'm decent," she said. "I wouldn't have let you in otherwise."

David opened one eye a crack. Seeing that she was, indeed, clothed, he opened the other eye and smirked at her. "My, don't you look fetching this morning, Sarah mine."

Sarah was suddenly acutely aware that David still only had on his pajama pants, and she was only wearing a robe. "I'll, uh, just go and get dressed," she said awkwardly, as she tried to edge past him.

David stepped in front of her and spread his arms across the doorway, blocking her exit. "I'm afraid that, in order to pass through this portal, my lady must pay a toll."

She looked up into his face and saw the mocking light in his eyes. "And just what might this toll be?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow and deciding to play along.

David smiled mischievously, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I think a kiss will suffice," he said.

Sarah regarded him with an impish expression. "All right," she said, "but only one kiss."

David lowered his head and gave her a slow, sensuous, lingering kiss. Sarah wrapped her arms around him. Her hands came to rest on his bare back and she found she couldn't resist running them up and down the solid expanse of his warm skin. It was every bit as smooth and soft as she had imaged, stretched over the firm muscles of his back and shoulders. She felt David draw in his breath and intensify the kiss. She trailed her nails lightly along his skin. He jerked almost spasmodically and pulled his head back, breaking the kiss. She saw that his pupils had dilated, and the look he gave her would have melted lava. A more physical expression of his desire was making itself felt further down his body where Sarah leaned against him. "You're playing with fire, woman," he said in a low voice.

Sarah cocked an eyebrow up at him, but stilled the movement of her hands. "Is that sufficient toll to permit me to pass through the portal, my lord?" she asked with a teasing note to her voice.

He swallowed, apparently in an attempt to maintain his self-control. "I suppose I asked for that one," he said.

"Oh yeah, you definitely did," Sarah quipped.

"Minx."

"I'll just go and get dressed now."

"Yes, perhaps you'd better." He released her, and Sarah slipped out of the bathroom and into her bedroom.

She dressed quickly in her skinny jeans and a charcoal gray knit top with a scoop neckline. She then combed the tangles from her hair and headed towards the kitchen to make breakfast. Passing the bathroom, she heard the shower running, accompanied by David's voice singing, "Put on your red shoes and dance the blues." A mental image formed in her mind of David in the shower. Naked. With water streaming down his lean body. She stopped in her tracks. It was a compelling image.

Just then the water shut off, and David's voice became louder, "If you should fall into my arms and tremble like a FLOW-WER!" A shiver ran through Sarah's body. Her mental picture of a naked David had just collided with another image of her falling into his arms, also naked. She shook her head to clear it and continued on towards the kitchen. It would not do to let David know she harbored such fantasies. He would surely try to take advantage of them.

Ten minutes later, Sarah was standing by the stove frying bacon when David entered the kitchen. He was barefoot and wearing his tight blue jeans and a navy blue, V-neck sweater over a white T-shirt, his damp, blonde hair slicked back from his forehead.

"There's tea brewing," Sarah said, gesturing with her elbow towards a fat, brown teapot on the counter, "and feel free to make toast, if you want some."

"I think I'd rather have something else that's hot," he said as he stepped behind Sarah, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her on the neck.

"Hey! You're gonna make me burn the bacon!"

"Can't have that, now, can we?" he chuckled against her ear. "You've already managed to singe one package of meat this morning."

"Stop that!" Sarah tried unsuccessfully to swat at him over her shoulder. The kitchen timer dinged. "Tea's ready. Would you mind taking the tea bags out?"

David moved away from her to attend to the teapot, then carried it to the table while Sarah plated the bacon.

"One thing I love about living in the UK is the bacon. Most bacon back home is streaky bacon," she added, wrinkling her nose. "Lots of fat, but not much meat."

"So, you prefer lots of meat, do you, Sarah mine?" David said, grinning at her suggestively.

"What is it with you and the bad innuendos this morning?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

Just then, David's phone rang. He scooped it up from the table and glanced at the screen. "It's the power company. I have to take this," he told her.

"Okay," Sarah replied as she poured them both cups of steaming tea.

"Go ahead and eat. Don't let your meat get cold."

"Perish the thought," she replied dryly.

He returned to the table several minutes later. "I'm afraid I have to dash," he told her. "They're sending someone out to make repairs, and they'll be at my flat in an hour."

Sarah pretended to pout. "So much for spending another day together."

"I'll make it up to you next weekend," he promised, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "After we sit for Rene on Saturday, I'll take you out dancing. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like fun."

"Good. I'll call you tomorrow." He made his way back to the living room where he pulled on his boots and leather jacket and grabbed his bag.

Sarah met him at the door to give him a good-bye kiss.

Pulling her close, his eyes sparkled with mischief as he said, "What fun it would be to tell everyone at Lloyd's that I spent the night at your flat."

Sarah's jaw dropped. "You wouldn't dare!"

He chuckled. "Don't worry, Sarah mine," he said, "I'm not one to kiss and tell."

Sarah glared at him. "Stop teasing me."

"But it's so much fun."

"Cad."

"Minx."

He kissed her then and made his exit, leaving Sarah looking after him and shaking her head.

~o*0*o~

The next day, she received a text from David while she was at the office.

D: Meet me at Kings Arms after work

Sarah frowned. It was obviously not a request.

S: Why?

D: There's something we need to discuss

S: What?

D: We'll discuss it tonight

She could sense David's annoyance even through the phone. Why was he being so obtuse? She shook her head and tapped out a response.

S: OK see you there

When David did not respond, she shrugged and went back to her work, wondering what had gotten him so worked up.

~o*0*o~

When she entered the pub later that evening, she found David sitting at the same corner table they had occupied the week before. He had his phone out and was frowning in concentration as he furiously tapped out a message. She heard the soft ding of an email being sent as she slid onto the bench next to him.

"Hey, you," she said.

David practically jumped. He had been so engrossed in sending his email that he hadn't heard her approach. He gave her a forced smile as he put his arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek. "Hey, yourself."

Sarah knitted her brows and looked at him. "What's up?"

David tossed his phone onto the table with a sigh. "I have some bad news, I'm afraid."

"Oh? Did your power go off again?"

"What? No, nothing like that. I have to go away."

"Away? What do you mean?"

David sighed. "I'm being sent to an underwriters' conference in Munich."

"When?"

"This Wednesday."

"Oh. That sucks."

"Indeed."

"When will you be back?"

He rubbed his face with his free hand. "Not until Valentine's Day."

"So, I guess this means we won't be sitting for Rene on Saturday. Or going out dancing," she said a little wistfully.

"Well, I certainly won't be, but you should still go and see Rene. He'll be thrilled at having you sit for him – with or without me present – and I think you'll enjoy his company."

"You aren't afraid he'll try to seduce me while I'm alone with him, are you?" She had meant the comment teasingly, but the look on David's face brought her up short. "What?"

"That is exactly what I am afraid of."

"That I'll dump you for Rene?"

"Not Rene, necessarily, but another man, yes."

Sarah pulled away from his grasp and turned to face him, suddenly furious. "What the hell, David?"

He looked confused. "What?"

"You honestly think I would dump you just because you have to go on a business trip?"

"Well, I will be gone for almost two weeks."

"Two weeks isn't that long."

He sighed. "You agreed to go out with me less than two weeks after we met."

"Yeah, because I wasn't seeing anyone else at the time. If I had been, I'd have told you to fuck off." She was really mad now.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Sarah – "

"Well, you bloody well did!"

"Do you really want to have this disagreement in public?"

"Hey. You started it."

Gus appeared at that moment to take their drink order. Seeing the tense way they were regarding each other, he was about to turn and walk away again when Sarah's voice stopped him. "Gus, please bring us two Dalwhinnies. Neat." Without a word, the barman nodded and beat a hasty retreat.

David's eyebrows shot up. "You're having Scotch?" he asked incredulously.

"I need a stiff drink. My boyfriend just said he expects me to cheat on him while he's out of town."

Gus returned and silently deposited two tumblers of amber liquid on the table before retiring. Sarah picked up her drink and drained it in one gulp, then slammed the empty glass down on the table. "Why do you have to be so fucking insecure, David?" she demanded.

David was staring at her. "You think of me as your boyfriend?" he said finally.

" _Duh_. How else would I think of you? 'Paramour' is too old-fashioned for my taste." She signaled to Gus for another round of drinks.

"I don't quite know what to say."

"Then, don't say anything," she retorted. "You've dug yourself into a pretty deep hole as it is."

Gus placed two more tumblers on the table. He removed Sarah's empty glass with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing. As she was lifting the second drink to her lips, David placed a gentle hand on her wrist to stop her. "Sarah, don't," he said quietly.

Sarah glared at him. "Don't what?" she challenged. "Drown my sorrows?"

"Don't get drunk on my account." He hesitated, then said levelly, "I'm sorry, Sarah."

"For what?"

"For doubting you."

Sarah slowly lowered her hand and placed her glass back on the table. "I'm listening."

David sighed in frustration and ran his hand through his hair, clearly agitated. "I told you once that it's been a long time since I was in a serious relationship," he began without looking at her.

"I remember."

"Well," he paused, then continued, "truth be told, it's been so long that I honestly do not remember it at all. I seem to get things wrong sometimes because I lack a proper basis for comparison for my actions."

"You don't remember ever having had a serious relationship?"

"No. I mean, yes, I don't remember."

"That's…odd," Sarah said, giving him a strange look.

David sighed again. "I know." His voice sounded pained. He rubbed a hand over his face and paused again, as though deciding how best to proceed. Sarah waited, not knowing where he was going with this. Finally, he resumed, "You see…I was in a car accident, many years ago. And it's…affected my memories to a certain degree."

"You mean you have amnesia."

"To put it bluntly, yes."

"I…didn't know."

"How would you? I've never mentioned it." He raised one of the glasses in front of him and quickly drained it. "It's not exactly something I like talking about. I haven't told many people."

Sarah looked at him thoughtfully, not exactly sure how to respond to his confession. "Well, I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to tell me."

He waved aside her comment and reached for his second glass of Scotch. "How else could I explain myself without letting you in on my dirty little secret?" he asked bitterly.

Now it was Sarah's turn to stop him before he could gulp down his second helping of alcohol. "Hey," she said, touching him gently on the arm.

He looked at her then. "What?" he demanded, none too gently.

"I realize that it's hard for you to open up about this, and I'm glad you told me."

David looked nonplussed. "Really?"

"Yeah. We should be able to trust each other, if we're going to get anywhere in this relationship."

He considered that for a moment. "You're right," he finally admitted, setting down his glass. "It's just that – "

"You're ashamed of it," Sarah finished for him.

"Yes," he said in surprise.

"And you're afraid I'll reject you because of it."

"Yes," he said, regarding her intently.

Sarah took his hand in hers and, interlacing their fingers, raised it to her lips. She placed a soft kiss on the back of his hand and then lowered it into her lap, where she continued to hold it. "David," she said, "there's nothing to be ashamed of. And I'm not going to push you away because of it."

"You're not?"

"No," Sarah replied firmly, "I'm not. What kind of a girlfriend would I be if I rejected you for something that happened to you a long time ago and that you can't help?"

"My girlfriend," he said, staring at her. "You're my girlfriend."

"Uh, _yeah_."

"I like the sound of that."

Sarah smiled wryly. "Yeah, me too."

"I don't deserve you."

"No," she agreed, "you don't."

He finally smiled at her and gave a short bark of laughter. He placed his free hand over hers, so that her hand was now clasped in both of his. "I am truly sorry I hurt you, Sarah mine," he said, turning serious once more and meeting her gaze. "I am angry at having to leave you, even for a short time, and frustrated with my own inadequacies. I should not have taken those negative emotions out on you. And, you are right. I am very insecure about certain things. I live in fear that I have very little to recommend me to you."

"Wow. You're really opening up tonight, aren't you?"

"As you said, we need to learn to trust each other."

"Yes," she agreed, "we do." She picked up her glass and held it out towards him. "To trust."

David picked his own glass and clinked it against hers. "To trust."

They both drained their glasses. Sarah coughed. "Damn, that stuff burns. How do you drink it all the time?"

David grinned. "Practice."

"So," Sarah said, "you're getting back on Valentine's Day."

David sighed. "Yes," he said, "my flight lands that afternoon."

"Do you want to go out that evening, or will you be too tired?"

"I doubt I would ever be too tired to spend time with you, Sarah mine. I think a date on Valentine's Day is splendid idea. I'll make reservations for dinner before I leave."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Oh, and would you do me two favors?

"Depends on what they are."

"First, would you stop by my flat a few times while I'm gone to make sure the electricity is still on and everything is secure?"

"Certainly. Do you mind if I hang out for a while when I visit?"

"Not at all. In fact, stay over, if you like."

"You just like the idea of me sleeping in your bed."

David grinned. "Of course."

"What's the second favor?"

"Would you wear your red dress on Valentine's Day?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because it's my favorite," he said with a sly smile.

"Then, how could I possibly resist?"

"I doubt you could."

"Cad."

David chuckled at that and leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the lips. "But, just remember," he teased, "I'm _your_ cad."

"I'm not likely to forget," Sarah laughed back. "You _are_ my boyfriend, after all."

"I do like hearing you say that."

"Well, you'd better get used to it. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

"That is music to my ears, precious."

~o*0*o~

The next two weeks dragged by slowly for Sarah. Although she and David spoke on the phone or texted every day, it just wasn't the same as being with him in person. She maintained her normal routine of work, relieved that the Staffordshire oil spill finally seemed to be under control and the initial frenzy was dying down. She was able to leave the office at something approaching a sane hour each night and still have time to relax and unwind before bed.

Both that Saturday and the next she traveled to Soho and sat for Rene. The artist was disappointed at David's absence from their sessions, but appeared overjoyed that Sarah was willing to sit for him. Each time she arrived, Rene made good on his promise by presenting her with a full pot of tea and a heaping platter of profiteroles. Any of the pastries she couldn't eat while she was at the studio Rene insisted that she take home with her.

She visited David's flat after each session with Rene, as well as on several weeknights. It felt odd to be in his flat without him there. Unable to contain her curiosity, she had guiltily snuck into David's bedroom on her first visit and taken a look around. She wasn't sure what she had expected to find, but his bedroom was fairly ordinary. There was a queen-sized bed with dark, wooden head and foot boards covered with a fluffy burgundy duvet and matching pillows. The bed was flanked by a pair of matching nightstands. A tall chest of drawers stood against one wall, and a bench upholstered in burgundy velvet sat at the foot of the bed.

She was surprised to find an envelope with her name on it propped against one of the pillows. Opening it, she found a note, written in David's bold handwriting, which read:

"Dearest Sarah,

I knew you wouldn't be able to resist exploring my bedroom. One day soon, I hope to share it with you.

I very much look forward to seeing you on Valentine's Day.

Until then, I remain,

Ever yours,

David"

Sarah blushed as she read his words. "Cad," she murmured before tucking the note carefully into her purse. When she got home that evening, she reread the note and placed it under her pillow.

~o*0*o~

The last Friday David was away, Sarah arrived at the office to discover a bouquet of red roses on her desk. The accompanying card read:

"My Dearest Sarah,

Since it is now one month to the day since we first met, it seemed appropriate to mark the occasion. I hope you enjoy the roses, as I now know they are your favorite.

It seems like such a long time until I see you on Tuesday.

Fondly,

David"

Sarah took the roses home with her that evening and put them in a vase on her coffee table. It definitely wasn't the same as having David there, but it was nice to have a reminder of him to look at whenever she was missing him.

~o*0*o~

After what seemed like an eternity, Valentine's Day finally arrived. Sarah rushed home from work, showered quickly, and made herself up for her big date with David. As he had requested, she put on her red dress, but, this time, she paired it with her over-the-knee boots, rather than pumps. The boots were so tall that the upper edges were hidden by the short hemline of her dress. The effect was fairly provocative. Looking in the mirror nervously, she spoke out loud to her reflection, "I hope it's not too much."

Her ruminations were cut short by a knock on her front door. She felt her heart give a small leap. David was back.

She hurried to open the door and threw her arms around him before she had even invited him inside, kissing him like he would vanish again any second. Pausing for breath, she told him, "I missed you so much."

David smiled at her, looking incredibly pleased with her welcome. "I missed you, too, Sarah mine. But," he added, "do you think we could continue this inside, away from the prying eyes of your neighbors?"

Sarah blushed and released her hold on him. "Oh, sorry," she stammered, stepping back to let him into the flat and closing the door after him. She took a good look at him as he crossed the threshold. He was wearing his charcoal gray suit with a tie and pocket square that exactly matched her dress and his trademark fedora.

"No apologies necessary, my dear," he responded. "I am just as happy to see you as you appear to be to see me. Perhaps even more so," he added, letting his eyes travel up and down her figure. "You look radiant, Sarah mine."

"Thank you," she said, "I thought you'd like it with the boots."

"I do. Very much," he said with an appreciative glance at her legs. "Just how high do those things go, anyway?"

"Maybe I'll let you find out after dinner."

David looked at her in utter astonishment. "Sarah," he almost choked out, "what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," she said, reaching out and playing with his tie, "let's see how dinner goes and what we feel like doing afterwards. And, if we're both up to it," she added nervously, raising her eyes to his, "maybe – _maybe_ – something could happen that hasn't happened before."

He moved forward swiftly and firmly pressed her against the wall, kissing her with all of the emotion he'd had to store up while they were apart. Sarah moaned softly as she pulled him closer. After several minutes, David drew back and said in a hoarse voice, "Sarah, I haven't seen you for two weeks, and you look like you've giftwrapped yourself for me. Please, please, I am begging you, do not tease me like this."

Sarah looked up at him. "I'm not teasing, David," she said. "At least, I'm not trying to. I'm being sincere. I think sex could mean something for us at this point. I'm ready to find out."

He gaped at her. Finding his voice, he asked hopefully, "Do you want to order takeaway and stay in tonight?"

"Not a chance," Sarah laughed. "I want the full date experience, dinner and all."

"Pity," he said, but his tone lacked his usual sardonic inflection, and his eyes had a delighted look in them. "Oh, before I forget," he added putting his hand into his jacket pocket. "I've brought you," he pulled out a flat, green velvet box and held it out on his palm, "a gift."

That voice, saying those words…and that expectant look on his face…

Sarah blinked. "What is it?"

He smiled, and her sense of déjà vu vanished. "Open it and find out."

She gingerly took the box from him and opened it to reveal a heart-shaped, amber pendant on a delicate silver chain resting in a bed of green velvet. "Oh, David. It's lovely." She looked up and gave him a kiss. "I love it."

"Do you really?"

"Yes."

"Here, allow me." He took the box from her and removed the necklace. Moving over to the mirror, he said, "Come here and turn around."

Sarah did as he instructed and watched in the mirror as he fastened the chain in place around her neck. It was just long enough to allow the heart to rest on her upper chest, well above the neckline of her dress.

"It looks beautiful against your skin," he murmured in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Yes, it does. Where did you get it?"

"I had some free time during the conference, so I went shopping in Marienplatz. That's the central square in the city center. There's a little shop there called House of Amber, and they sell all kinds of jewelry made from Baltic amber."

"It sounds lovely."

"Maybe one day I'll take you there and get you matching earrings."

"I'll hold you to that."

"I look forward to being held."

Sarah leaned back against him, enjoying the feeling of his body supporting hers. "I'm glad you're back," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Me too," he breathed in her ear.

Just then, Sarah's phone rang. Sighing, she reluctantly pulled away from David and went over to the coffee table to pick it up. She glanced at the screen. "It's Karen."

"Your stepmother?"

"Yeah." She put the phone back down.

"Aren't you going to answer it?"

"Nah. She can leave a voicemail, and I'll call her back tomorrow."

The phone fell silent.

Sarah stepped back towards David. "Now," she said playfully, "where were we?"

The phone began to ring again. Annoyed, Sarah snatched it up. Glancing at the screen once more, she frowned. "It's Karen again."

"Is your voicemail full?"

"No." An uneasy feeling crept over her, replacing her annoyance. "Karen doesn't usually call this early because of the time difference. It's only two o'clock there."

Sarah hesitated, and the phone fell silent again. She breathed a sigh of relief. She was getting upset over nothing. However, before she could put the phone down, it began to ring a third time. She looked at the screen, dreading what she would see. It was Karen.

"Is she usually this persistent?" David asked.

"No," Sarah said, worry creeping into her voice. "I really should take this," she added apologetically. "Just in case something's wrong."

"By all means," David replied, his face mirroring her concern.

Sarah tapped the green answer icon and put the phone to her ear. "Hi, Karen."

"Sarah?" her stepmother's voice crackled out of the phone, laced with hysteria. "Oh, thank God. I was afraid you were out, and I wouldn't reach you."

Fear gripped Sarah's heart. Karen was usually so calm. "What is it?" she asked, her throat tight. "What's wrong?"

David crossed the room to her side.

"Oh, Sarah," Karen sobbed. "It's your father. There's…there's been an accident…"

* * *

A/N

We interrupt your regularly scheduled UST to bring you DRAMA! Because things just couldn't keep going smoothly forever, now could they?

(ducks to avoid flying rotten peaches)

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I'm glad you all are enjoying reading my story as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

As always, many thanks to my DH, Sea Beam for being so long-suffering in reading and discussing (and discussing) this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8 - Brave New World

Standard Fanfiction Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations created and dramatized by Terry Jones, Brian Froud, Jim Henson, David Bowie, et al. I do not own Labyrinth, nor am I making any money from it.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Brave New World**

Sarah didn't hear any more. The world went silent around her. She was dimly aware of Karen's voice, speaking from a long way off. The hand holding her phone fell to her side, forgotten.

David gently took the phone from her and spoke into it. "Hello? Mrs. Williams? My name is David, David Jones-King. I'm a friend of Sarah's. Can you please tell me what's happened?" He paused, listening. "Yes, Sarah's still here, but she's a bit…overwhelmed at the moment. I'll pass on any information you can give me." He sat down on the couch, gently pulling Sarah down beside him. She followed him without resistance. David put his arm around her as he listened to Karen.

Slowly, sound returned to Sarah's world. She could make out a word here and there coming from the phone: "car accident"; "drunk driver"; and, most chilling of all, "coma."

She heard David's responses to Karen, "Yes. Yes. I understand. Where can I reach you?" He stood and crossed the room to Sarah's desk, picked up a pen, and began jotting down notes on a pad of paper. "And what is your address? And the name of the hospital? Room 421? In the ICU. I see. Yes. We'll be on the first available flight. Don't worry; I'll get her there safely. Yes. Thank you for letting us know. We'll see you soon." He ended the call and returned to the couch to sit beside Sarah. He put one arm around her and spoke very gently. "Sarah?" She turned vacant eyes to face him. "Sarah, can you hear me?"

She nodded.

"Good. Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?"

She nodded again.

"All right." David took a deep breath and, turning his body towards her, took both of her hands in his. "Sarah, your father has been in a car accident." He paused and watched her reaction. Not seeing any, he went on, "He is alive, but he is in a coma."

Sarah just stared at him.

"Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"All right, good. Karen thinks you should fly home to the States as soon as possible. Do you want to do that?"

Sarah drew a shuddering breath. "Yes." She was surprised she could speak again.

David nodded. "Good." He stood up, fished his phone out of his jacket pocket, and began to scroll through his contacts.

Sarah stared up at him, dazed. "Who are you calling?"

"Trevor."

She felt so lost. "Who's Trevor?"

"My assistant."

Why did nothing make sense? "You have an assistant?"

"Yes." He tapped something on his phone and then put the device to his ear.

Sarah stared across the room and blinked several times. Something was wrong about this. What was it? Oh, right. "You're calling him now?"

David gave her a strange look. "Of course. Why not?"

"Because it's Valentine's Day." That's it; that's what was wrong.

"So?"

"He might have plans tonight." Can't disturb Trevor on Valentine's Day. That just wouldn't do.

"I don't care. I need him to make travel arrangements. He can resume his amorous activities later. Hello? Trevor? Good. Now, listen closely."

She only half listened to David give instructions to his assistant. Dad was in a car accident. Dad was in a coma. No, that couldn't be right. How could he be in two places at once? Nothing made sense.

She realized David was speaking to her again and looked up at him blankly. "What?"

"I said, 'What is your full name?' Trevor needs it for your plane ticket."

"Sarah Regina Williams," she replied automatically.

David gave her a funny look.

"What?"

"Your name is Princess Queen?" he asked.

"Yeah. So?"

"Nothing." He turned back to the phone and relayed the information to the invisible Trevor. After a few more minutes, he ended the call and sat down beside her again.

"How do you feel?"

"How do I feel?" What an odd question. She didn't feel anything.

"Sarah." The concern on David's voice was palpable. "Sarah, do you feel well?"

"Well," Sarah repeated. "That's a deep subject." She began to laugh hysterically. Then, just as suddenly, her laughter gave way to sobbing. "David," she choked out.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, holding her tight against him. Sarah's sobs shook them both. Now that she could feel again, it was too much. There was so much pain. She could not stop crying. Dad was in a coma. He might die. David held her, rocking her gently back and forth and making shushing noises in her ear, like she was a baby. After a while, her weeping slowed, and she slumped against him, exhausted. David laid her carefully on the couch and pulled an afghan over her.

~o*0*o~

She must have fallen asleep because the next thing Sarah knew, she was opening her eyes. She blinked and slowly took in the room around her. David lounged in her armchair, one leg thrown over the arm, scrolling through his phone. His suit coat lay across the back of the chair, and his tie hung undone from his open collar. Sarah cleared her throat, and David looked up.

"How are you feeling?"

"A little better."

"Good. You should eat something, if you can stomach it."

"Are we still going out?"

"Under the circumstances, I thought it wiser to postpone our romantic evening. I've ordered takeaway. Do you want curry or biryani?"

"Biryani sounds good."

David stood and made his way towards the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a full plate of food in one hand and a glass of white wine in the other. He set them down on the coffee table. Sarah sat up. Looking at the food, she felt her stomach clench.

"I'm not really hungry," she said.

David sat down next to her. "Sarah," he said gently, "you need to eat. We're leaving for the airport in a few hours. You really ought to have something in your stomach."

Sarah turned questioning eyes to him. "We?"

"I'm going with you."

Sarah shook her head. "David, you don't have to do that."

"Sarah," he sighed, "you are in no fit state to travel overseas on your own. I told your stepmother I would get you there safely, and I fully intend to do so."

"No, David, I – "

"Sarah, don't defy me on this."

Her eyes went wide. David's face had taken on a hardness that Sarah had never seen before. "What?"

David's face relaxed, and he took her hand in his. He continued in a softer voice, "Sarah, I cannot allow you to make this journey on your own. Not when it is within my power to accompany you and ease the burden."

"But, it's not up to you to help."

"Of course, it is. You're my girlfriend," he said simply. "Besides, who else would it be up to? You cannot travel alone."

Sarah sat up straighter and attempted to pull her hand from his. He refused to release his grasp. "Of course, I can," she snapped.

David rolled his eyes at the ceiling, as though praying for patience. "Sarah," he said, "I did not mean that I thought you were incapable of doing so, merely that it would be unwise, given your current mental state."

"And what 'mental state' would that be?" she demanded.

"Shock."

Sarah slumped, all the fight going out of her at once. She knew he was right.

"Precious," he continued, putting an arm around her and drawing her close to him, "I know you're a strong woman. Your independence is one of the things I admire most about you. But, just this once, lean on me. Let me help you. Please."

"All right," she agreed, snuggling her face into the crook of his neck. The smell of him was comforting.

He wrapped his other arm around her, so that he was holding her close in a tight hug. "I'm here for you, Sarah mine," he murmured into her hair. "I won't let you go."

~o*0*o~

After choking down as much of the biryani as she could, Sarah went to her bedroom and changed out of her dress and into jeans and a sweater. She then hastily packed her suitcase and dug out her passport. She'd been unable to reach Bryan, but had left him a voicemail explaining the family emergency and asking for a six-week sabbatical. She fervently hoped that she wouldn't need to be gone that long.

It turned out that the dutiful Trevor had not only made their flight arrangements, but also dropped off David's suitcase. While Sarah was packing, David changed out of his suit and into jeans and a gray cashmere sweater. He then called a cab to take them to the airport.

The earliest flight from Heathrow to JFK was at 8:30am. It was still fully dark when they left Sarah's flat and stepped into the waiting cab. At the airport, they checked their bags, collected their boarding passes, and slowly made their way through the double-layered security. After stopping at a café to grab pastries and cups of tea, they were finally seated at the gate, waiting for their boarding call. Sarah stared blankly out the window at the waiting plane, while David sipped his tea. Turning back to him after several minutes of silence, she noted the tension in his body and face and asked, "What's wrong?"

David glanced at her over the rim of his cup. "I hate flying," he said tersely.

"Then, why come with me?"

"Because my desire to help you is greater than my phobia," he replied. "I'll be fine."

Sarah laid a hand on his arm. "Hey," she said, leaning forward and looking him in the eye, "thank you. It really means a lot to me that you're coming with me and had Trevor make all the arrangements. And I'm sorry for getting snappish with you earlier. You were right. This isn't something I could do on my own. I'm glad you insisted on coming."

David gave her a slight smile. "You're welcome," he replied. "For you, Sarah mine, I would move the stars; getting on an airplane with you is a piece of cake."

Before Sarah could reply, a voice crackled over the loudspeaker and announced first class boarding for their flight.

"That's us," David said. He stood up and reached for his carryon.

"We're flying first class?" Sarah asked.

"Trevor said that's all that was available at such short notice."

"I've never flown first class before."

"You'll probably like it."

"How did you afford first class?"

"I had a bunch of miles saved up."

"Must have been a lot of miles."

They boarded the plane and found their seats. After the stewardess had taken their drink order – white wine for Sarah, Scotch for David – Sarah settled back in her seat. "Well," she said, "if we have to fly, this is certainly the way to do it."

"It makes flying tolerable," David replied with a tightness to his voice. "Just."

By the time the plane was pulling away from the gate, he was on his second Scotch. "I suggest sleeping, if you can," he told Sarah. "It's a long flight."

"Yeah," Sarah replied, "and then we have to drive to Upper Nyack from JFK. That takes about an hour – without traffic, which never happens. We'll be on the road a while."

"All the more reason to rest while we can," David responded. "The seats lie flat, by the way."

"Oh, shit!"

"What?"

"We need to rent a car."

"Trevor took care of it."

"He did? Oh, um…okay," she said uncertainly. "Good. Thank God for Trevor."

"Indeed."

"You better give him a really good bonus this year."

David didn't respond. He was too busy double-checking his seat belt.

The plane began to taxi down the runway, gathering speed. David shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The nose of the plane lifted, and then they were being carried aloft by the air currents. David gripped the arm rests, his knuckles white. As the plane rose through the dense cloud cover, it hit an air pocket, and the floor seemed to drop out from beneath them. Sarah heard David groan. The plane righted itself and continued to climb until it burst into bright sunlight above a floor of dazzling white clouds. Glancing over, Sarah saw that David had his eyes shut tightly. She reached over and touched him on the arm. He jumped.

"Hey," she said softly.

He opened his eyes and stiffly turned his head to meet her gaze.

"Are you okay?"

He swallowed. "Fine."

"Forget your false bravado," Sarah chided, "I know you're freaking out." She slid her hand down his arm until she was holding his. He gripped her hand tightly, their fingers interlacing. With her free hand, Sarah reached around and moved the armrest that separated their seats. She then snuggled closer to David, giving them both reassurance. After a while, the plane leveled off, and the captain announced that they were free to move about the cabin. "You can relax now," Sarah said.

"Doubtful," David responded. "I'll just keep staring at the seat belt sign, waiting for it to come back on."

"Distract yourself and put a movie on," Sarah suggested, taking a look at the inflight entertainment options. "Ooh, they have _Star Wars: Episode VII_."

"I didn't know you were a fan."

"Oh, yeah. From way back. Toby and I used to have lightsaber duels in the backyard."

"Who's Toby?"

"My brother."

"You never mentioned that you have a brother."

"Well, he's technically my half-brother – Karen's his Mom – but he's the only sibling I have."

"How old is he?"

"Fourteen."

"That's quite an age difference."

"Yeah, I guess. Fourteen years. Dad got remarried when I was twelve." At the mention of her father, a look of anxiety crossed Sarah's face. "I hope he's all right."

David squeezed her hand. "As do I."

Sarah put on her movie and cuddled as close to David as she could, while he put his arm around her and held her close. Even with her enthusiasm for _Star Wars_ , she was so worn out with the stress, coupled with a mostly sleepless night, that she nodded off on David's shoulder before Rey had even left Jakku. David had to wake her up several hours later when the stewardess came to take their lunch order.

~o*0*o~

The remainder of their flight was uneventful, although the approach and landing had David once more on the brink of a panic attack. Sarah insisted on accompanying him through Customs, even though, as an American citizen, she could have sailed right through.

The Customs agent raised an eyebrow at Sarah's American passport. "You should be in the other line," he told her.

"We're traveling together," Sarah responded, gesturing at David.

"Is this visit for business or pleasure?" the agent asked David.

"Neither."

"We're visiting family," Sarah interjected.

"My girlfriend's father is ill," David told the agent, "so, while this trip is not business-related, it is in no way pleasurable."

"I see." He scanned and stamped both passports before handing them back. "Welcome to the United States, Mr. Jones-King. You are admitted for 90 days. Ms. Williams, welcome home."

They made their way to the baggage claim and retrieved their luggage without incident. As David had said, Trevor had, indeed, reserved a rental car for them in Sarah's name. She suspected this was because David had no experience driving on the left-hand side of the road. David put the hospital's address in the GPS, and they were on their way. Before long, they were pulling onto the highway, leaving the airport behind them. Traffic was heavy, but was far from the worst Sarah had experienced in New York City.

As they crossed the Whitestone Bridge, Sarah gestured to her left and said, "Mr. Jones-King, welcome to the New World."

It was a clear day, and the famous Manhattan skyline was spread out for them to see. David couldn't keep from gawping. "That's New York City?" he asked incredulously.

"Part of it," Sarah replied with a touch of pride, "that's Manhattan."

"The pictures don't do it justice," he said. "And you used to live there?"

"Yep."

"Where, exactly?"

Sarah stole a glance out her window, as she navigated the bridge traffic. "You see that really tall, skinny building?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Well, that's 432 Park Avenue. I lived somewhere to the right of it, on the Upper East Side."

"And I assume you also worked in the city?"

"Yeah. Look to the left, all the way down. See that big, kind of glittery building with the really tall antenna on top?"

"Yes."

"That's the new World Trade Center building that went up after 9/11. I used to work in a building just a few blocks from there."

"Fascinating."

Upon exiting the bridge, traffic thickened, and Sarah found she had to focus all of her attention on driving. Not needing a car in London, she was out practice, having only driven short distances when visiting home at Christmas.

Finally, they crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge across the Hudson River and exited the highway onto the more familiar surface streets of Sarah's childhood. Before long, they were pulling into the hospital parking lot.

As they got out of the car, Sarah swallowed. "Well, we're here," she said.

David gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

They made their way into the hospital, stopping at the information desk for visitor badges and directions. When they emerged from the elevator on the fourth floor, Sarah stopped to compose herself.

"David, I don't think I can do this."

"Yes, you can, Sarah," he replied. He took her in his arms and kissed her gently. "I'm right here with you."

Sarah nodded and pushed open the door to the ICU.

As they entered the private hospital room, they were greeted by the beeps, clicks, and whirs of the machines that were, for the moment, keeping Robert Williams alive. Sarah's eye fell on the bed, where her father lay, almost obscured by the myriad of wires and tubes that sprouted from his body like some invasive parasite. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she tried unsuccessfully to choke down a sob. David put his arm around her, although he, too, looked visibly shaken.

The noise woke Karen, who had been dozing in the recliner next to the bed. The older woman blinked awake and stared at them for a moment.

"Sarah?" She got up clumsily and hurried around the bed to enfold her stepdaughter in a tight embrace. "Thank God you're here." Releasing Sarah, she turned to David. "You must be David."

David gave a tightlipped smile and held out a hand. "Yes," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Williams. I wish it were under better circumstances."

Karen waved away his hand and gave him a hug. Sarah thought that the surprised look on his face would have been comical in any other setting.

"Call me Karen," she told him. "Thank you so much for bringing Sarah home. I'm so glad she didn't have to come all that way alone."

"It was the least I could do, Karen," he responded.

Karen turned once again to Sarah and gave her another hug, then began to fill her in on what the doctors had told her about Robert's condition.

While the women talked, David's eyes strayed to the broken figure lying supine on the bed. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Sarah noted that he looked paler than usual. It could have been just residual anxiety from the plane ride, but the longer he stared at Robert, the paler he grew. He shifted his feet restlessly.

"Oh, here, dear," Karen said. She lifted a padded folding chair down from a hook on the wall and held it out to David. "No need to stand. Have a seat."

Startled, David's head snapped around to face her. "What?" He twitchily glanced down at the proffered chair. "No. Thank you. I, uh…I'll just go and, um…fetch us all some tea, shall I?" he said hastily, retreating from the room as fast as he could before Sarah could stop him.

"Is he always that jumpy?" Karen asked.

"Not usually, no," Sarah replied. She took the chair from Karen's grasp and sat down on it herself, pulling it as close to the bed as she could. She picked up her father's hand and held it, gently stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. As she stared at the lifeless body that lay before her, her mind retreated from the reality around her and sought relief in analyzing David's actions. What had happened to get him so rattled? He was usually so controlled in his manner.

Her musings on David's strange behavior were cut short by the arrival of a nurse who proceeded to replace an IV bag on the stand next to the bed and systematically take Robert's vitals. She then entered the data into the computer on the rolling cart she had brought with her before taking her leave, closing the door softly behind her.

When the nurse had left, Sarah glanced at her watch. David had been gone for half an hour. "I wonder what's happened to David?" she mused aloud. "It shouldn't take this long to get tea."

Assuring Karen that she would be right back, Sarah exited the ICU and found David seated in the waiting room, a cardboard tray of disposable cups with lids sitting on the low table in front of him. He stood quickly when he saw her approaching. "I didn't think they'd let me bring the drinks in," he explained.

"You probably could've, but that's okay," Sarah replied. She sat down in the chair next to his and gratefully took the cup he offered her, sipping the warm liquid tentatively.

"I didn't know how your stepmother takes her tea," he continued in an apologetic tone.

"She doesn't," Sarah replied, leaning back in her chair and covering her eyes with her free hand. "She drinks coffee. Which I would have told you if you hadn't rushed off so fast." She cast a sidelong glance at David, who was nervously bouncing his right leg up and down. "Are you okay?" she asked him.

David jumped. "What?" His head snapped around to face her.

"I asked if you were okay," Sarah repeated.

"Yes. Fine," David said, too quickly, looking away again. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." She had never seen him this keyed up, even on the plane. What was wrong?

David bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut, as though in pain. Sarah noticed that he had his hands pressed together and was squeezing them firmly between his knees. "It's nothing," he said.

"David." She leaned forward and laid her hand on his arm, concern written on her face. "What's wrong? Please tell me."

He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. "Don't worry about me," he said tightly, giving her a forced smile. "I'll be fine."

"David, what – "

"Really, Sarah," he said, putting his hand over hers. "I'll tell you all about it later. Right now, we should be focusing on you and your family, not me."

Sarah frowned and studied his face. His eyes were slightly dilated, and his breathing seemed to be more rapid than usual. She felt a tremor running through the hand that laid over hers. "If you're sure…"

"Positive."

"Well, all right, then."

He forced another smile. "Drink your tea, love. It's getting cold."

Sarah nodded absently and drained her cup. She stood and, tossing the empty cup into a nearby trashcan, said, "I'm going back in. I'll send Karen out; she needs a break." Turning to look at him, she asked, "Are you sure you're all right?"

David forced a smile. "Yes, love. I'll be fine. Go be with your father."

Sarah nodded. She stepped forward to brush his hair back from his brow and give him a gentle kiss on the forehead. David closed his eyes and gave an unconscious sigh as he savored her touch. Then, Sarah turned and left the waiting room.

Once she was out of sight, David slumped in his chair and covered his eyes with one hand. Why did this have to be happening now? Just when Sarah needed him most, he was falling apart. To be fair, he told himself, he hadn't been inside a hospital since…then, so there was no way he could have known how being here would affect him. If he could just keep it together for a little while longer, just a little longer. He could do that, he assured himself. For Sarah's sake, he could do anything.

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. Just a little longer.

* * *

A/N

Well, here it is at long last. My sincerest apologies for the delay. It's been a crazy few weeks.

We're short-staffed at my office and prepping a big case for trial (I'm a paralegal), so the last thing I want to do at lunch or in the evenings is sit down at a computer and type some more.

My family also had a health scare with my Dad two weeks ago. We thought he had a stroke, but, fortunately, it turned out to be a case of transient global amnesia, aka, unexplained short-term memory loss – no known cause, no lasting effects. He's back to normal; the only vestige of the ordeal being a gap of several hours in his memory – not to mention near heart attacks for the rest of us. Very weird. The irony of having my father in the hospital with amnesia while writing a story in which one main character's father is in the hospital and the other main character suffers from amnesia is not lost on me. God has a sense of humor.

And then my baby sister and her family came for a visit this past weekend. Far too distracted by the adorable 8-month-old niece to sit down and write anything. 😊

So, did anyone catch the incredibly subtle _Star Wars_ reference? I'm not talking about Sarah watching the movie on the plane – that was obvious. I put in a much smaller Easter egg. Can you find it?

I heard in a documentary that David Bowie hated to fly. We have that in common. It was both very easy and very hard for me to write about David's reaction to being on a plane. I wrote from my own experience. I was actually getting sweaty palms writing that part. I've discovered what works best to calm me down on planes is a combination of Prozac, alcohol, and David Bowie music. Lol


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